


Lambs for Slaughter Pt. 2

by ShesLikeTexas



Series: Crossovers [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShesLikeTexas/pseuds/ShesLikeTexas
Summary: Four months after the events of Lambs for Slaughter Pt. 1, The Darkness has been unleashed on the world, and Dean Winchester still carries the Mark of Cain. He'll need all hands on deck to have a chance at beating Amara and saving humanity once again. But will Team Free Will, the BAU team, and the Avengers be enough when the devil himself is working against them?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Aaron Hotchner, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Crossovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099712
Comments: 55
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I had such a good time writing the first Lambs for Slaughter, that I wanted to continue the series. This update schedule will be much different because I don't actually have more than 3 chapters written already, so it's more of a post as I go sort of thing...  
> But I'm really motivated to complete this story. I would love any and all kudos/comments/suggestions that you might have for this story to keep everything on the up and up! 
> 
> P.S. I'm looking for a beta reader, so if you have some experience and are interested, please feel free to reach out through tumblr! shesliketexas-17

“Why are you doing this, Dean?” Sam asked hotly, his expression pinched and frustration shining through his dark brown eyes. 

Dean wrenched his gaze away from his brother and threw open the door to the Impala before climbing out, making sure to grab the paper bag from the backseat. 

The boarded up building stood alone in the center of miles and miles of poorly kept cornfields. Years of disuse had left the wood to rot and fall victim to layers of spray paint. 

“Because we’re out of options, Sammy.” He replied sharper than intended. He’d been over this in his head enough times to know that they were down to the end of the line, and Dean was  _ tired _ . “We’ve exhausted our resources at the bunker, Crowley is no damn help, and…” he hesitated, working his jaw, “and Cas is in the wind. He hasn’t answered a prayer or phone call in a  _ month _ . Death is the only being old enough to have any real answers about the Mark.”

Sam shook his head, simply to be contradictory at this point. “But it’s  _ Death _ ! He’s..he’s…” Sam threw his hands out to his side.

“He’s helpful,” Dean told him seriously. “Dude has actually been pretty straightforward with me every time we’ve met. Hopefully this time won’t be any different.” 

Without giving his brother another chance to argue, he led them towards the building, stepping over the overgrown pathway. The rustic handle broke off as he attempted to jimmy it, so he shouldered the door with a grunt, pleased when it burst open under his weight. 

The sunlight flitted through the boards over the windows, and the now open door provided enough light to see the webs of dust hanging in the corners and cloth-covered tables bolted to the floorboards. Sitting at one in a sharp black pinstripe suit was an elderly man with hollow cheeks and drawn features, and a cane resting beside him.

Death. 

“Dean,” the man greeted pleasantly, his voice a deep timbre that had the hairs on both Winchesters’ arms rise. 

Dean nodded as politely as he could, keeping in mind his previous encounters. 

“Please, take a seat.” Death gestured towards the chairs beside him.

He turned one around and straddled it while Sam crossed his arms and didn’t move any closer. “I’m good here, thanks,” he replied tersely. 

Dean rolled his eyes, placing the paper bag on the table before turning his attention to the man watching him with bemusement. “Thanks for meeting with me. I got the goods.”

The corner of Death’s lips twitched upwards and he reached into the bag to pull out a cheeseburger wrapped in foil. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I thought it was our thing,” Dean snorted, ignoring his brother’s exasperated sigh behind him. 

“It certainly is,” Death agreed, taking a bite. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dean glanced back at Sam and shifted in his seat. “I was wondering if you knew anything about this,” he rolled his sleeve up a few times until the Mark was showing, then flipped his arm over. 

If Death was surprised, he didn’t show it. Which made sense, really. Dude probably knew the moment Cain transferred the Mark. “Indeed,” he mused, cocking his head to the side. “The Mark of Cain. The Lock and Key.” 

“The what?” Dean asked, eyebrows raised. Even Sam stepped closer, hovering by Dean’s shoulder. 

“Tell me, are either of you aware of The Darkness?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other. “No, what is it?” His brother asked, sounding intrigued and lacking the hostility from earlier.

Death continued biting into his cheeseburger, reaching into the paper bag to snag a few fries as well. “In the beginning, there was God, the Light. But he was not alone.”

“You mean The Darkness,” Dean inferred with a frown. 

The man across from him nodded. “God locked the Darkness away where it could do no harm, and he created a Mark that would serve as both lock and key, which he entrusted to his most valued lieutenant, Lucifer. But the Mark began to assert its own will, revealed itself as a curse, and began to corrupt. Lucifer became jealous of man. God banished Lucifer to Hell. Lucifer passed the Mark to Cain, who passed the Mark to you, the proverbial finger in the dike.”

Dean slumped backwards, knocking into Sam’s stomach as he felt the blood drain out of his face. “Before Cain, Lucifer had this son of a bitch?” He accentuated his point by turning his arm around and showing the Mark once again. 

“So if the Mark is destroyed, then the Darkness will be freed?” Sam clarified, his voice sounding strained.

“Indeed,” Death repeated. “The same result will occur if it is damaged.”

Dean rubbed his face with the heel of his hands, putting pressure on his eyes as he thought about his options. If he did  _ anything _ to screw with the Mark, then who knows what kind of Hell would be unleashed here on Earth. They’d already dealt with the Apocalypse, so Dean wasn’t in a hurry to relive that nightmare anytime soon. 

He also knew that he couldn’t keep surviving like this. The call of the Mark was taking over  _ everything _ . He was forced to use the blade only one other time since their encounter with Hotch four months ago, and the pain was becoming unbearable. The thirst for blood sung in his veins and consumed his thoughts, and he knew it was affecting the people around him. Cas hadn’t even called him back or shown his face in  _ weeks _ . The angel probably cut his losses and took off before he could live to see Dean become a demon again.

Sam thought he was an idiot for even considering such a thing, but Dean didn’t know what else to think. Especially when they had - when they were working things out. Figuring out their feelings for one another. Why else would Cas just abandon him without a word of goodbye?

The worst part was that it was becoming too dangerous for Sam. Even in the bunker away from everyone else, Dean’s moods were explosive and hostile, the smallest thing setting him off. Once he calmed down and wrangled the Mark under control, he would always apologize, but Dean was terrified that he was steadily losing control. What if next time he accidentally killed his brother? 

No, he couldn’t keep living like this. 

“Then kill me.” 

Dean could feel Sam jolt beside him, and his brother’s hand moved to grip his shoulder. “Are you insane?  _ No _ !”

“It’s the only way,” Dean argued weakly, the weight of his decision sucking up the last of his energy. “I’m going to hurt people, Sam. Death is the only one powerful enough to kill me and make sure I don’t become a demon again.” 

“No, not happening -“ 

Death hummed, effectively cutting Sam off with a swipe of his hand after setting down the napkin from his finished meal. Both brothers turned their attention back to the man. “Sam is correct. Killing you will not work. If the bearer of the Mark is dead, and circumvents the position as a Knight of Hell, then there is nothing stopping The Darkness from being released.” 

Sam let out a relieved breath and tightened his grip. “See, Dean? Don’t think like that. We’ll figure this out, I know it.” 

“There is another way,” Death offered with a tilt of his head, his dark eyes boring into Dean.

Dean perked up, clutching onto the last strand of hope in sight. “Tell me.” 

“Very well.” He brushed a piece of lint off of his shoulder. “I can send you somewhere else. Somewhere where you would still be alive, but no longer a danger to anyone around you. Not your loved ones, and not your friends.” 

Dean swallowed thickly and moved to stand, holding onto the wooden chair with a white-knuckled grip. “Really? You can do that?” 

“Wait, Dean-“

“The price, however…” Death lingered with a dip of his head. Dean’s stomach shriveled and his chest constricted with the feeling of dread.  _ Of course  _ there was a catch. That was his fucking  _ life _ . 

Dean gestured for the man to continue, ignoring his brother’s protests. 

“The price for such an offer is Sam’s life.” 

It was like all of the stale, dry air in the boarded up old bar was sucked up into a vacuum. The tension was thick and Dean swore he could hear a fucking pen drop. “ _ Excuse me _ ?” 

Sam grunted in surprise and offense beside him. 

Death shrugged, completely unperturbed with the Winchesters’ reactions. “The two of you are infamous for risking everything to bring each other back to life. If I send Dean away with the Mark, I need a guarantee that Sam will let things lie. As I am certain he will refuse and do exactly that, his life is the price for my offer.” 

“He wouldn’t!” Dean shot back hotly, although the lie settled heavily on his tongue. He knew Sam would do anything and everything to get him back, just like Dean would do for him. 

Death was right.

And Sam wasn’t denying anything. 

Based on the unimpressed look the powerful being gave both of them, Death knew that he had them pegged. 

“I can’t agree to that,” Dean told him instead, gritting his teeth and tilting his chin towards his chest. 

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean shoved him in the arm.

“No, Sammy, just  _ shut up _ !” He ran his hands through his air and took to pacing the rotting floorboards. “That’s not an option. I’m not willing to risk your life, just like you're not willing to risk mine.” 

His tone brokered no argument, and his brother’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He remained silent as Dean tried to work it out for himself. “So you can’t kill me, and you can’t send me away.”

“Correct,” Death agreed solemnly. “Not unless you pay the price.” 

“Which isn’t fucking happening,” he hissed. 

Death simply crossed a leg over the other and picked up his cane, his long, slender fingers holding onto the steel tip. “Then it appears we are at an impasse, gentlemen.” 

Dean groaned and leaned against one of the walls with his head down. He knew it would be no use, but he prayed to Cas. He prayed to his angel with  _ everything _ he had, telling him how helpless he felt. How Dean was stuck with his back against the wall. How he couldn’t  _ handle _ it anymore. 

It was hopeless.

And just as he suspected, Cas ignored his prayer. 

_ Fuck _ . 

“Fuck,” he repeated out loud of good measure. Just as he began turning around to try and reason with Death again, a bolt of blue lightning tore through the wooden ceiling and struck his arm with an enormous  _ crack _ ! 

Dean screamed and fell to his knees, clutching his elbow as the Mark ignited on his skin. A blueish glow enveloped his arm and centered around the Mark with a faint humming noise, but Dean was deaf to anything and everything around him, the pain burning within his veins. 

Finally, an eternity later, the lightning faltered and the blue light dimmed. When he attempted to pry his eyes open - he didn’t even remember closing them - he risked a glance at his arm. 

His heart fell out of his chest. 

The Mark was still there. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but Dean had secretly been hoping that whatever the fuck just happened was some way to free him of the curse that had taken over his life, but it was no such luck. The damn thing was still tattooed onto his skin, now singed at the edges and pulsing hotly as if alive and very,  _ very _ pissed off. 

Dean’s lips pardoned in shock as Sam crashed to his knees beside him and placed both hands on his shoulders, demanding to know if he was alright. He simply blinked, unable to answer. 

A disbelieving  _ tsk _ sounded, cutting across the chaos that was warring within his mind. Both Dean and Sam snapped their heads towards Dean, who was now standing, towering above them. 

“That angel of yours has done something very foolish indeed.” 

Dean’s eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. “Cas?”

Death shook his head slowly, side to side. “His attempt to banish the Mark has only resulted in it’s damage.” 

Their earlier conversation came roaring back, forcing its way to the forefront of his mind. “No,” he rasped. 

“Yes.” 

The grip on his shoulders tightened until it was almost painful, but Dean paid it no mind. “Are you saying -”

“The Darkness shall be free once more,” Death declared. 

XX

“Sir?” 

The abrupt interruption of the deafening guitar solo from  _ Highway to Hell  _ was enough to tear Tony’s attention away from the Mark VII, just barely managing to avoid DUM-E’s claw which held out a green smoothie. He set his tools down on the bench and took a sip, grimacing when he tasted a hint of motor oil. “Yeah, J?”

“The Stark Satellites have picked up a disturbance of unusual proportions.” 

Tony leaned against the workshop table, absently patting DUM-E’s head and taking another sip of his drink. He swiped a greasy hand through the air. “Bring it up. What do you mean ‘ _ a disturbance’ _ ?”

A fifteen by eighteen inch holoscreen appeared before him and he adjusted it with a flick of his wrist. “I believe you will need to see for yourself, Sir.”

There was no audio, but the satellite image zoomed in from the World Globe until it centered onto the outskirts of a small town in Kansas. He watched with growing confusion and fascination, wondering what the hell could have gotten his A.I. so riled up, when he saw it. 

Lightning,  _ a lot _ of lightning ripped through a slowly darkening sky, barely enough cloud clover to register as a storm. “What the fuck? Did Thor throw a hissy fit or something?” But the strangeness didn’t stop there. The earth shook beneath the feed, the evidence of a powerful earthquake. Hundreds of deep black plumes of smoke broke free from the ground, miles away from the centered lightning strikes, seizing upwards and curling over the sky until converging into a thick dome. The shadowed dome pulsed with increasing speed until it  _ exploded _ , sending darkness rippling over the barren countryside and stretching onwards for miles, lingering for at least ten minutes until it slowly dissipated away. 

Tony stared. Then stared some more. And then he replayed the video over again fifty more times until he finally ran a shaking hand through his hair once again. “J?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Call Agent and let him know that we’ve got a situation.” 

“Of course, Sir.” 

XX

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose to hold off the groan that wanted to crawl out of his throat. The case they had been working on had taken almost four days longer than they were expecting, and it took them too long to reach the Unsub. Nicholas Grayson had murdered two more seventeen year old girls with his hammer before they caught him, and Aaron would have a difficult time forgetting their parents’ sobs when they had to break the news. 

And now that they were back home, he had reports to fill out before he could go relieve the babysitter. Looking through the stack of paperwork, Aaron estimated he had about another hour and a half left to go. With a sigh, he buckled down and put his pen to paper. 

Not long after he got started, movement from the bullpen caught his eye. Aaron frowned and pushed up to his feet. There shouldn’t be anyone else on this floor, his team had already left for the night. By the time opened the door to his office, four unfamiliar agents in matching sharp black suits were filing into the BAU’s area. 

“Can I help you?” Aaron asked with an air of caution. 

One man, with thin blonde hair and a carefully blank expression that gave nothing away, stepped forward with a manilla folder in his hand. “Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron nodded carefully. 

“My name is Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I’m here to speak with you about Dean Winchester.” 

XX


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning y'all! I hope you had an excellent week. 
> 
> It looks like I'm going to shoot for weekly updates, but I couldn't tell you how long this is going to be...I THINK it will be longer than its predecessor, because it will be more of a build up. But, we'll see. I want to thank everything who's subscribed/bookmarked this fic. Looks like we're on this ride together!

Aaron shook the offered hand, if only to be polite, but stepped back almost immediately. “I apologize, Agent Coulson, but I’m not sure what information you believe I can give you. The BAU team rescinded its profile on the Winchester brothers.”

The Agent hummed and glanced over his shoulder at the other men in suits before returning his attention to Aaron. “If you don’t mind, Agent Hotchner, I would prefer it if we could continue this conversation in the privacy of your office. My associates will remain here.”

“Fine,” Aaron responded shortly, fighting to keep calm as dozens of theories as to why a SHIELD agent of all things wanted to speak to him about  _ Dean _ , none of them particularly comforting as he led the man up the short set of stairs and through the threshold of his office, closing the door behind them. He gestured towards one of the leather chairs in front of his desk and moved to stand behind his own seat. When the agent took it with a nod of thanks, Aaron followed suit. “Now, what can I do for you?” 

Agent Coulson shifted the manilla envelope into his lap and drew out multiple sheets of paper, keeping them close to his chest. “Two years ago, I was assigned to monitor a situation that was manifesting in Cleveland, Ohio. Four victims had been discovered over the span of two weeks, all with the blood completely drained from their bodies.”

The corners of Aaron’s lips twitched downwards. Even if he hadn’t spent a week after the crossroads demon incident at the Men of Letters bunker reading and learning about the types of monsters the Winchesters had come across in their lives, then it still wouldn’t have been difficult to assume what type of creature might be at fault, if the case was indeed supernatural. 

_ Vampires _ . 

Still, he was speaking with a government agent. “Sounds like the type of case for the BAU,” Aaron remarked simply. 

“It does sound like the type of thing a ritualistic serial killer might do,” Agent Coulson agreed. “But I was only sent to observe. I had strict orders  _ not _ to get involved. However, the local police department must have sent word to their counterparts a few counties over, because a Park Ranger claiming to be an expert on dangerous wildlife in the area had already arrived on the scene to assist.” 

Aaron wasn’t sure where Agent Coulson was going with this story, so he laced his fingers together and set them carefully on the desk. “Seems like an excellent asset to have on such a case. The probability of an animal attack would need to be determined by the information an expert such as a Park Ranger could provide.” 

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Agent Coulson mused as he began leafing through his files. “The problem, I found, was that the man was a fraud. I called the National Parks Service to confirm his identity, and they had no record of his employment.”

“Sounds like an unsub attempting to insert himself into the case to throw off his pursuers’ efforts.” 

Agent Coulson gave a short nod. “My thoughts exactly. But, as I stated before, I was only meant to observe. So that’s exactly what I did.” 

Aaron forced himself to swallow and keep his voice steady. “And did you learn anything interesting?”

“One could say that, yes. After a few days of ‘investigating,’ he seemed particularly excited about something. I followed the man claiming to be a Park Ranger to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. I watched him through a broken window on the south side of the building. Before I could even pull my gun, he had entered into an altercation with two middle-aged women.” Agent Coulson leaned forward in his chair, his light brown eyes boring into Aaron’s dark ones. “Faster than I had anticipated, the man  _ cut off  _ the head of one of the women. The other was quicker than lightning, baring unnaturally sharp teeth, and raked him deep across the chest. Before he fell to his knees, trying to staunch the blood, he shot the second woman with a crossbow. She lay there, paralyzed and unmoving, and the man didn’t hesitate to cut off her head as well. By the time I made my way inside, the supposed Park Ranger was already dead.”

It was quiet in Aaron’s office, save for the obnoxiously loud ticking of an old wooden clock Rossi had given to him as a gift. 

Before Aaron could come up with a reasonable response, Agent Coulson continued. “I, of course, investigated the scene, rather horrified by what I had just witnessed. I wanted to understand, to see if I had imagined the teeth. I didn’t. Both women had a second set of, for lack of a better word -  _ fangs _ , that dropped down from their gums. I searched the man’s pockets and discovered a card with the information of his so-called superior.” 

Agent Coulson’s gaze hadn’t moved from Aaron’s, and he couldn’t help the bead of sweat that formed at his temple from the attention. This man  _ knew _ that vampires were real, had  _ seen _ the evidence with his own eyes. What did that mean? What did he want with Dean?

“After I called my boss to send someone to handle the scene quietly and efficiently, I proceeded to do a little research of my own. I wanted to know who this supposed Park Ranger was, and who he worked for. It was quite obvious that he knew more than the officers investigating the case, so I traced the phone number on the card.” Agent Coulson’s expression had not changed or shifted during their conversation. His blank face still displayed the same practiced, professional set of his jaw. “My investigation brought me to a small town, just outside of Sioux Falls, South Dakota, where I met a man named Robert Singer. He told me to call him Bobby.” 

The name was shockingly familiar. The first time Aaron had heard it was almost thirteen years ago in Upstate New York when a scared and frustrated Dean begged his father to make sure that his “Uncle Bobby” would take care of Sam while he himself was stuck at the Boy’s Home. Since then, both Winchester boys had told them the story of their surrogate father, Bobby Singer. The man had loved Sam and Dean as his own sons, and had died with both of them at his side after fighting a losing battle against the wound he suffered at the hands of the Leviathans. 

Aaron did his best to keep his own face devoid of all emotion, but he must have given himself away somehow, because Agent Coulson simply hummed, as if confirming that the name had been recognized. “Mr. Singer became something of a consultant for SHIELD. When my division came across a phenomenon that we couldn’t explain, I called Mr. Singer, and he would advise on the best path forward for my teams. He saved countless lives in the eleven months I knew him.” 

“Why are you telling me this, Agent Coulson?” Aaron asked steadily. If this man knew about the supernatural and was directly involved with one of the Winchester’s close friends, what did he want with Aaron?

“Before Mr. Singer was killed, he left a message for me. He told me that if I found myself in a situation where I needed his assistance again, then I should contact Dean Winchester.”

Aaron frowned. Bobby died a little over a year ago. If what he said was true, then Agent Coulson should have had Dean’s contact information for at least that long. Why was he coming to Aaron to speak with Dean? 

Agent Coulson finally flipped through the files in his hands before placing the first one on Aaron’s desk. His heart clenched in surprise as a photo that looked to be taken from a security camera showed the Winchester brothers dressed in the suits they wore when impersonating FBI agents to gather information on a case. 

Yes, Aaron recognized the blatant disregard for the law and had decided to look past it. 

“In my line of work, trusting someone at face value is considered naive, and perhaps ignorant. I ran a background check on Dean Winchester and the results that came back were...unsettling, to say the least.” 

The next photo was of Dean fleeing the scene of a crime in the Impala. 

“I decided to observe him rather than engage as Mr. Singer suggested.”

A photo of Dean wearing flannel and a trucker’s hat, reading a porn magazine while he stood amongst the carnage inside of a gas station. Shelves had been knocked over in an obvious struggle and there were pools of blood and prone bodies at his feet. Aaron couldn’t help but wince, remembering Dean telling him about his time as a demon. 

Agent Coulson paused for a moment before placing three additional photographs on top of the previous ones. Aaron shifted in his seat uncomfortably as these displayed evidence that he was ‘associated’ with Dean. The first showed the hug they shared outside of the hotel in Colorado when Dean told him about the Mark of Cain. The second was a photo of Aaron, Reid, and Sam Winchester outside the home of Madam Althea. And finally, the last one captured the moment when Dean had met Aaron’s son. 

Two weeks after they defeated the crossroads demon, the boys stopped by Aaron’s house in Virginia on their way to another case. They hadn’t stayed long, but Dean was dying to meet Jack, and Aaron wasn’t in the business of denying his friend much of anything. Jack, of course, fell in love with Dean straight away. They talked cars, their favorite Disney movies, and the wonders of food. The photo Agent Coulson presented him with was the two-armed bear hug Dean had given Jack before he and Sam drove off in the Impala. 

Aaron felt the blood drain out of his face. This was the moment he feared. SHIELD had discovered his involvement with two serial killers on the FBI Most Wanted List, and he, perhaps along with his team members, would be taken into questioning. At the very least Aaron would be charged with harboring a fugitive. If the courts decided to push for more than a five thousand dollar fine, then he could end up spending five years in prison. There was no question that he would lose his job, along with any clearance he’d earned. He would be blacklisted from any other government agency, which would make it next to impossible for him to find another job. 

And yet…

And yet he wouldn’t change his fate. Sam and Dean Winchester were good men. They put their lives on the line for the good of humanity every single day, dealing with nightmares that the average person could never even dream of. Dean had never been allowed to simply be a child growing up, not until he found Aaron. He spent his entire life looking after other people when he deserved to have someone look after him. If befriending Dean led to Aaron losing his job and potential jail time, then so be it. 

“You have yet to ask a question, Agent Coulson,” he pointed out. He would rather get this show on the road then draw it out any further. 

The man across from him gave a sharp nod. “My observations have led me to believe that you have a personal relationship with Dean Winchester. I would like to contact him regarding an incident that occurred yesterday afternoon. His expertise could be valuable in the case SHIELD has opened.”

Aaron blinked, a surge of relief crashing through him as he realized that Agent Coulson didn’t want to arrest Dean. He needed his  _ help _ . And he wanted to go through Aaron to get it. 

“Until I see evidence of this ‘incident’ that you need Dean for, I’m afraid I won’t be of help.” He had spent most of his life learning how to read people. Despite the calm, collected nature that Agent Coulson presented, Aaron knew that he was afraid. He needed to know that this man wasn’t going to turn on Dean the moment the opportunity presented itself. 

Agent Coulson tilted his head in thought for a moment before agreeing. He took out his cell phone, pulling up a video and turning it to the side before sliding it across the desk. 

The satellite feed was surprisingly clear, which caused Aaron’s brow to furrow. Where did Agent Coulson get a video of this quality? 

As he watched the lightning strikes and black smoke tear across the screen, Aaron realized why SHIELD was interested in getting Dean’s help on this. The Impala trapped in the corner was as clear as day, and Aaron would recognize it anywhere. 

Dean had been there. 

Aaron returned the phone after a few moments of silence, then picked up the photos that were laid over his desk and handed them back to the Agent. 

“As you can see, SHIELD would greatly appreciate any assistance in contacting Mr. Winchester in regards to yesterday’s events, Agent Hotchner.” 

“Yes, I can see that.” Aaron mused, standing up from his chair and straightening his suit jacket. Agent Coulson followed his lead and looked at him expectantly. “I can call Dean to figure out what happened, but I won’t lie to him about your involvement. In addition, I can’t promise that Dean will accept your... _ help _ .” 

In fact, he was pretty sure that Dean would tell Agent Coulson to go to hell. Maybe even purgatory. (Learning about that was still screwing with Aaron’s head). The Winchesters weren’t ones to get involved with federal agents, the BAU being the obvious exceptions due to his and Dean’s past. 

Agent Coulson seemed to accept this, and shook Aaron’s hand before moving towards the door. “I understand. Thank you for your cooperation, Agent Hotchner.” 

Once he was alone, Aaron fell back into his chair and buried his face into his hands. 

_ Fuck _ .

XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? 
> 
> I'm still looking for a beta reader, so if you have any experience and enjoy this series, send me a note or message on tumblr :) Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday y'all! Hope you had an excellent week. 
> 
> Enjoy Ch. 3!

Dean gasped, sucking in air as he bolted upright. He scrambled shakily to his knees and then finally pushed up to his feet when his stomach didn’t feel as if it was being boiled in a vat of motor oil. Blurriness clawed at the edge of his vision as disorientation set in, and Dean blinked a few times to clear his head. 

Finally, his gaze cleared and he was able to discern that no, hours hadn’t passed since he was last conscious. The sun hadn't set as he first thought, rather, there was a black cloud of thick smoke that was howling around him like he was the eye of the storm. 

Or -

The woman standing with her back to him, ten feet away.  _ She _ was the center of this tornado. Not him. His eyes tracked the curves of the tight black dress she wore, from her long brunette curls all the way down to her bare feet. Although the wind whipped around them, neither of them could feel it. The woman’s dress and hair stood perfectly still, at least until she stretched her neck and rolled it from side to side. 

When his brain finally caught up to him, Dean had the good sense to be very,  _ very _ afraid. 

This was the being, the woman, that even Death was afraid of.

The problem was that in addition to fear, Dean also felt  _ exhausted _ . He still had the damn Mark, even after everything, and now he would have to deal with this. 

“Hey!” He shouted gruffly in an attempt to make himself heard over the echoes surrounding them. “What the hell is going on?” 

The woman turned to look at him over her shoulder, and he finally caught a glimpse of her face. Strong, high cheekbones. Dark eyes and full lips. 

She was beautiful. Ethereal. 

But he didn’t care. All he wanted was to find his brother and his angel and go back home to the bunker.

“Thank you, for setting me free.” 

His throat constricted painfully. “Alright, you’ve said your thanks. Now let’s talk about what happens next.” 

She moved to face him fully, and he got an eyeful of a plunging neckline that accentuated her clear, pale skin. A smirk played across her lips. “I like it here. With you.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, her chest rising with the movement. “I haven’t felt this peaceful in a long, long time.” 

Dean scowled. “Well let’s get something straight. I’m not here to bring you peace. I know what you are.”

“Really?” She asked with a popped brow. “I’ve been gone so long, I didn’t think anyone would remember.” 

“Well Death painted a hell of a picture,” Dean shot back, suddenly wondering where the hell the man in question wandered off to. Probably cleared out the moment the lightning strikes hit. Asshole. 

Her expression pinched and she tilted her head to the side, like Cas does when he’s confused. It was a much better look on him. “I don’t know this Death...and he certainly doesn’t know me.” 

Dean snorted. “What, are you saying I shouldn’t try to kill you right now?”

“Am I saying that?” She sounded amused, as if she were playing with him. It made Dean grind his teeth together in frustration. “Or are you?”

He blinked and startled when he realized that she had somehow moved closer. Dean hastily took a step back, not understanding the confusion in her eyes. “If you're as bad as they say you are, why haven’t you hurt me?”

“For the same reason you’ll never hurt me,” she explained simply. “We’re bound, Dean.” Slowly, the woman brought her arm out and turned it over so that he could see the tattoo etched into her skin. 

The Mark of Cain. 

“We will always be bound. You helped me, and I will always help you.” She took a step forward and the intensity in her gaze increased. “No matter where I am, or who I am, we will  _ always _ help each other.” 

The blood roared as it rushed between Dean’s ears and his heart rate skyrocketed when she tried to move even closer. A part of him, a small, traitorous part wanted to lean into her. To fall to his knees and  _ beg _ for mercy and let the woman  _ consume _ him inside and out. 

But every other fiber in Dean’s body warred against the initial instinct,  _ despised _ how close he’d allowed her to get, and flinched away. He barely managed a scream of, “ _ No _ !” Before the dark shadows surrounding them converged and he saw no more.

XX

“Dean!” 

When Dean forced his eyes open again, the world had set itself right once again. He raised his head from the hard ground to see his brother running towards him. “Dean!”

He managed to get himself to his feet by the time Sam made it to him, throwing his long arms around Dean’s shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Dean stumbled slightly and returned his brother’s hug, patting him hard on the back. “I’m fine, Sammy.”

Sam pulled away with a pinched expression. “What the hell happened? One second the Darkness was taking over the car, and then the next you were gone! We’re about a mile from the Impala.”

“I don’t…” Dean hesitated, turning back towards the way Sam came. He wanted to go  _ home _ . Sam fell in step beside him. “I don’t know how exactly. I woke up with the Darkness around me. There was a woman.”

Sam’s brow disappeared beneath his hairline. “What? A woman?”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah, she thanked me.”

“For  _ what _ ?”

“For saving her,” Dean told him with a frown. 

Sam was quiet for a few moments as they walked. “She was The Darkness?” 

Dean agreed with another nod. “Yeah, she -” He brought a hand up to rub across his face. “She said that we’re bound, somehow. She had the Mark of Cain, and said that we would help each other.” 

His brother caught a hold of his arm and looked at him in surprise. “Do you think she can control you with the Mark?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Dean shrugged, but the feeling of dread settling in his stomach was probably a good indicator. “There was a part of me that wanted….” He hesitated again. 

“Wanted what?”

Dean licked his lips and tried to shove off the guilt creeping up his throat. “Her. I wanted her. But not really!” He explained sharply, not wanting his brother to get the wrong idea. “I still - you know. Cas. Even though he…” Dean shook his head again as they approached the Impala. 

“She did say that you were bound, Dean,” Sam told him softly. “Maybe the Mark is making you feel things that you wouldn’t normally.” Before Dean could open his mouth again, his brother continued. “And Cas is still yours. Didn’t you hear Death? Cas tried something to get rid of the Mark. Yeah, he might have done something stupid without us and unleashed the Darkness, but he was still doing it for you.” 

Dean paused before they reached the car and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sam was right. He needed to remember that. Cas might not have called or answered any prayers in a freakin’  _ month _ , but it probably meant that he was doing something he knew Dean and Sam wouldn’t approve of, even if it was to get rid of the Mark. Cas wouldn’t abandon him. Especially not now. 

Finally he nodded and held out his hand to his brother. “Keys, Sammy.”

The grin that greeted him was  _ blinding _ . 

XX

It only took two hours to get back to the bunker, and Sam honestly didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, Dean still had the Mark of Cain, and The Darkness had been unleashed onto the world. So, objectively, not great. They still didn’t know the repercussions of Cas’ actions yet, but Sam was having a hard time focusing on all of the negatives that had come out of the afternoon. 

Because Dean was more himself than Sam had seen in  _ months _ . Whatever Cas did to damage the Mark, where it failed in removing it completely, it seemed to have succeeded in breaking the Mark’s constant hold on Dean. 

His brother was exhausted, that much was obvious, but he didn’t radiate the same fury and rage that had dominated his personality ever since Cain transferred the Mark. There was also a small smile touching Dean’s lips, the first one Sam had seen in weeks, and he knew it was because his brother was thinking about Cas. 

Sam wasn’t the least bit convinced that Cas left Dean because he couldn’t “handle” the effects of the Mark like Dean ridiculously thought. This wasn’t the first time the angel had gone off book to do something dangerous to save one of the Winchesters, and Sam was sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

Gabriel explained it to him once, back when Dean and Cas were still dancing around each other. He said that angels don’t feel emotions the same way humans do. They’re either dialed down to their base emotions, such as anger, happiness, fear, or sadness, or it’s  _ all consuming _ . Angels were created to love, to worship, to serve. But all of that devotion was meant for their Father, for the creator of all things. 

When Cas fell in love with Dean, he also fell from the Host of Heaven. Not because Dean was a man, Gabriel told him that his Father couldn’t care less about the gender of one’s partner, but because Cas somehow made room in his heart for someone other than God. The love that was meant for the Great I Am was now split, and the all encompassing devotion was now focused on a human man. 

No, Castiel wouldn’t leave Dean. He  _ couldn’t _ . Not while his love was powerful enough to raze the world should Dean ever be in danger. The angel pulled him out of Hell; he wouldn’t skip out on Dean just because he was cursed. 

When they parked the Impala and made it downstairs to the library, Dean’s phone went off. He stiffened, glancing at the screen and back at Sam. 

“Answer it,” Sam encouraged him. 

Dean nodded slowly and shifted his gaze to the floor as he rested his hip against the table. “Cas?” 

Whatever Cas had to say, it had Dean’s expression twisting into anger. “Oh really? You care now? After  _ weeks _ of ignoring me?”

He sighed, pinching his nose and bringing his chin down to his chest. Dean’s voice was quiet when he spoke again, breaking slightly. “No. No, it’s not gone.  _ Please _ , Cas. Come  _ home _ . We’re at the bunker. I need - I need to see you.” 

Dean nodded at whatever Cas said in return. As he hung up the phone, the flutter of wings sounded near the entrance of the library, and they both looked up sharply. 

Castiel was standing there mostly unharmed in his black suit and rumpled tan trench coat, but he looked absolutely  _ devastated _ . His normally clear blue eyes were bloodshot with streaks of red staining his cheeks, and his breaths were coming in short, painful pants, which meant he was hurting, because angels didn’t need to breathe.

“Cas?” Sam tried carefully, eyes flickering between his best friend and his brother while they stared at each other, the intensity swelling between them. 

The angel’s lips parted as he attempted to speak, but closed again and his face collapsed with a wobble. “ _ Dean _ ,” Cas choked out. 

The air was thick, the tension making Sam practically vibrate in place. He shifted his feet uncomfortably. 

Dean was standing stock still, save for the hand that was twitching by his side, as if he wanted nothing more than to just reach out and touch. “Are you okay?” 

“Am I…” Cas sputtered, clearly surprised. Which Sam inwardly thought was a bit naive. Castiel should know by now that Dean’s first thought was  _ always _ of others. Never himself. “Am  _ I _ alright? Are  _ you _ ?” His voice was harsh and broken as he stepped towards Dean warily. “I’m so  _ sorry _ I failed you, Dean. I  _ tried _ -“ 

“ _ No _ ,” Dean snarled, pushing away from the table. “You didn’t fail me. You  _ tried _ ,” he stressed, shoving his hands through his hair. “I know you did. It’s okay.”

Cas hesitated. “But the Mark…”

“Is still there, yeah. But I -“ he looked down towards his arm and flexed it. “But I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. I don’t feel taken over like I did before. Whatever it was that you did, it  _ helped _ , Cas. It did. I’m still pissed, furious even, don’t get me wrong, but I’m  _ okay _ .” 

The relief that consumed the angel was obvious. His shoulders slumped from their painfully tense hold and his face relaxed into a grateful, soft smile. 

“Sammy?” Dean asked underneath his breath, still not taking his eyes off Cas.

“Yeah?” 

“ _ Get out. _ ”

The tips of Sam’s ears burned as the rough voice cut through his thoughts and he finally recognized the eye fucking going on between his brother and Cas. He accidentally hit his shin against a chair in his haste to get the hell out of there, muttering frantic curses. 

Of course as soon as he turned a corner, Sam was  _ stupid _ enough to look back when he heard a sound over his shoulder. He wished he could find a way to burn his eyes out, because the image of his brother pouncing on the angel with a strangled whimper and crashing their lips together in a tangle of tongue and teeth was now seared into his brain. 

Damnit. 

XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I love Destiel, and I only got to touch on it in the first part of Lambs for Slaughter, so expect some fluffiness! Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S., I'm still looking out for a beta, so if you have any experience and are interested, let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Hope y'all had an awesome week! 
> 
> Update - Avengers will show up in Chapter 6, I just needed more fluff and communication first. Thanks so much for reading y'all!

They didn’t come up for air again until Dean’s stomach growled the next morning. He huffed out a laugh against Cas’ bare chest, humming when the angel tightened his hold on his waist and ran fingers through his disheveled hair. “Hungry?” 

“Still human,” he agreed, looking up at his boyfriend through long lashes. “Think I could convince you to make me a sandwich?” 

The corners of Cas’ chapped lips twitched upwards. “I think that can be arranged.” With a flutter of wings, the angel disappeared and Dean forced himself to sit up and lean against the wooden headboard. He looked around the room, the tips of his ears heating up as he saw both his and Cas’ clothes strewn about from their rush to get into bed last night. Besides the space in Dean’s closet, Cas had started adding a few of his own personal touches since they’d officially gotten together a few months ago. Small things that Dean hadn’t had the heart to get rid of when he thought Cas left him. The stack of mixed tapes Dean made for him by the computer. A koala stuffed animal Claire had gotten him sitting on the nightstand. A set of cowboy movies he wanted to watch with Dean waiting by the television. 

Now that Cas was back, the items felt warm and welcoming rather than mocking. Dean shook his head and pushed off the bed, throwing on the closest pair of boxers, which happened to be Cas’, and stumbled into the bathroom. Once he relieved himself and brushed his teeth, Dean opened the door to see his angel waiting for him on the bed with a plate of two sandwiches and a serving of chips. “That’s what I’m talking about! Thanks Cas.” 

Cas gave him a small smile, moving over so that Dean could get to the food. His expression was more pinched than earlier, which meant that he would want to talk about what happened. Dean wasn’t exactly the poster boy for discussing his feelings, but after finding Hotch again and getting together with Cas, he begrudgingly accepted that communication was important in any relationship, platonic or romantic. After he finished eating, he wiped his mouth on the provided napkin and turned his full attention to the angel. 

“Dean…” Cas started, then paused. He took Dean’s hand and his chin dropped down to his chest. “I’m _so_ sorry, for so many things.” 

Dean swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, but kept quiet. He knew his boyfriend well enough to understand that Cas needed to get this out, no matter how uncomfortable Dean might feel. 

“I’m sorry for leaving you and Sam without a word or an explanation. I knew you wouldn’t approve of my plan to get rid of the Mark, but I couldn’t let that stop me.”

“What did you do?” 

Cas squeezed his hand again, still not looking him in the eye. “I was working with Crowley and Rowena.” 

Dean sucked in a sharp intake of breath. What the _fuck_. “Cas-”

“I know,” Cas cut him off with a shake of his head. “I know it was stupid. But you were hurting, Dean. You were in _so much_ pain.” He gritted out through clenched teeth. “It was killing me to see you like that. We were running out of options, and it was the only thing I could think of to help you.” 

When he finally brought his gaze up to meet Dean’s, there was a faint shine to them. “I _swore_ to you that I would find a way to break this curse, to get rid of the Mark. To _save_ you. But it seems like the only thing I managed to do was isolate you. And if that wasn’t enough, my actions freed The Darkness. I’m so, so sorry Dean.” 

Cas sounded so ashamed as he clung to Dean’s hand, begging for forgiveness. Dean pulled the angel in for a hug, throwing his arms around Cas’ shoulders and burying his face in the crook of the angel’s neck. “I forgive you, Cas. I swear I do.” He didn’t pull back as he continued, lips pressed against Cas’ pale, heated skin. “I understand why you did it, even though I hate the thought of you in that situation. I know you would never hurt me intentionally. I just -” 

He broke off, shaking his head and tightening his hold on Cas, who prompted him to continue by rubbing a line down his spine. “I just...when you left, I thought. I thought you couldn’t handle it anymore. That you didn’t want me.” His voice was small, barely above a whisper. 

He didn’t expect Cas to jerk back in surprise, his eyes wide and frantic as they searched Dean’s face. “ _What_ ? You thought I left you? That I what? Stopped _loving_ you?”

Dean gave a weak shrug. 

Cas’s hands moved to cup the sides of his face as he pressed his forehead against Dean’s. “Dean Winchester, you are the single most infuriating man on the face of this planet. I rebelled against heaven because you reminded me what my Father’s parting words were. To _love_ his creation. To love _humanity_ . You showed me what that truly meant, and what humans are capable of. You are my entire life, Dean. I am devoted to you. I will be by your side until you grow old and grey, and when you return to heaven one last time, I will not be moved. There is nothing, _nothing_ , that I wouldn’t do for you, Dean Winchester.” 

His words swelled inside Dean’s chest, snaking through his veins and warming the very core of his soul. Objectively, Dean knew that Cas loved him. He’d heard him say it, and it was evident in the way he spoke to and of Dean, and the way Cas looked at him. But Dean hadn’t quite understood the depth of the angels’ feelings until now. He had a warrior of heaven, of _God_ , in love with him. The reality sunk deep into Dean’s bones, and he paused for a moment, the air hanging around them lying in wait. 

And then Dean hooked a hand around the back of Cas’ neck, his fingers sliding into the angel’s hair and clinging to the base of his skull, and brought their lips together. Cas made a small noise of surprise but relaxed into the kiss almost immediately. Dean devoured his mouth until Cas growled, low and dangerous and sexy, taking over the kiss and shoving Dean down onto his back. 

When they broke apart, Dean looked up at his angel with a wide grin stretching over his swollen lips. “I love you too, Cas.” 

XX

A sharp ringing brought Dean back to consciousness. He grunted in annoyance and burrowed his way back underneath Cas’ arm. 

“Dean, it’s your phone,” the angel’s voice was deep and rough, just how Dean liked it. 

He hummed, smiling against Cas’ skin. “Then answer it for me.”

Dean felt him shrug, bringing the phone to his ear. “Dean’s phone.”

A male voice sounded on the other line, but the haze of sleep hadn’t yet lifted from Dean’s mind. 

He continued drifting until he heard, “Agent Hotchner, it’s nice to hear from you.” 

At the mention of his friend, Dean perked up with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hotch?” 

Cas gave a low chuckle, the hair on his chest tickling Dean’s nose, before putting the call on speaker. 

“Dean?”

“Hiya Hotch. You doin’ alright?”

“I’m fine,” he assured before the sound of the phone shifting on the other line caused Dean to frown and lift his head. 

“Uhh,” Dean started, pushing himself up and leaning back against Cas. “I call bullshit. What’s going on?”

His friend’s sigh was heavy. “I just had a visitor at the bureau. An Agent Coulson from SHIELD.”

Dean shared a look with Cas, brows furrowed. “The people who dealt with that attack in New York? What did they want?” 

“They wanted to speak with you.” 

He felt his angel stiffen behind him. “ _Why_?” 

Hotch hesitated for a moment. “They think you can explain what happened yesterday in Kansas. Apparently they’ve had you under surveillance for a little less than a year. Agent Coulson said that Bobby Singer gave him your contact information before he died.” 

“What the _fuck_ ,” Dean breathed out, every muscle in his body seizing in shock. “Bobby was working with the feds? How? And why the hell are they going through you?” 

Realization crashed over Dean like a fucking tidal wave. _Shit_. If the government had been watching him for a year, and they spoke with Hotch, then they knew they were connected somehow. Did that mean they would take Hotch in? Would he lose his job? What about Jack?

Wait -

Did they get to him? Was Hotch _turning him in?_

“Dean, whatever it is that you’re thinking right now, stop,” his friend instructed sharply. “I told them I’d call you, nothing more. If you don’t want to speak with SHIELD, then you don’t have to.”

A little bit of tension drained from Dean’s shoulders. What was he thinking, assuming the worst of Hotch like that? He trusted the man, more than anyone else outside of his family. It wasn’t fair to him to jump to conclusions.

“I-yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing a calloused hand across his face. “Sorry, guess it just kind of caught me off guard.”

Hotch hummed his agreement. “You’re not the only one. But, Dean, they have video footage of whatever happened yesterday. Are you,” he hesitated, “are you okay?”

Dean couldn’t help the fond grin that danced over his lips. Of course Hotch would care more about Dean’s safety over getting his version of the events. He was so much like Cas in that regard. “I’m fine.” Strong hands slipped over his waist, skating over the well-loved bruises on his hips, and Dean leaned back into Cas’ warmth. “More than fine, actually. The Mark was damaged, so I’m not a complete lunatic under its effects anymore.” 

“What?” Hotch sucked in a quick intake of breath. 

“Yeah, we don’t really know much else at this point about the Mark, but I -” He sighed. “I’m better. A lot better.” 

His friend’s relieved chuckle on the other line had Dean nuzzling his nose against Cas’ cheek. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks, Dean. I’m so happy to hear that.”

“Thanks, Hotch,” Dean told him seriously. “As for everything else, we’ll handle it on our end. I’m not sure what we’ll do yet, but I don’t want civilians involved in this. It’s some really big shit that you need to stay away from.” 

“I understand.” And from the sound of his voice, Hotch did. He trusted the Winchesters to get the job done, a sentiment that never went unappreciated. “I’ll handle SHIELD. Just,” he blew out a breath. “Be safe, alright?” 

Another smile touched Dean’s face. “I will, don’t worry. Talk soon?” 

“Always.” 

XX

“Yes,” Phil fought down a grimace, using his years of training to keep his expression carefully neutral. “I understand. Thank you for your cooperation.” He ended the call and lingered for a few extra moments staring down at the phone before clearing his throat and pocketing it. 

He made his way back into the grand conference room, Phil’s light blue eyes trailing over the extensively modern decor and familiar artwork lining the walls. At the edge of the long, dark wooden table stood two of the heroes under his supervision. Tony Stark had parked himself in the Captain’s personal bubble like he belonged there, though to be fair, he probably had for several months. The paperwork had been a nightmare, but the Captain wanted to ensure everything was above reproach when he sat Phil down to discuss recent developments. The super soldier gaze had softened, with a fond smile touching the corners of his lips as he looked down at his boyfriend. 

Both Tony Stark and Steve Rogers turned back towards Phil with expectant expressions when they heard him come in. 

“Well?” The billionaire asked with bated breath. 

Phil gave a slight shake of his head. “The experts on this case have decided to handle the situation internally.” 

Stark’s brow furrowed as a disbelieving expression twisted his handsome features. “Are you kidding me?” 

“Tony - “

“No, Steve,” Stark interjected, throwing a hand out towards Phil. “You saw the video. Watched it almost as many times as I did. Whatever caused that is powerful with a capital freaking _P_ . And these so-called ‘experts’ think they can do a better job than the _Avengers_? Where do they get off? And it’s not like Agent over here is giving us any info on who they are so we can talk some sense into them.” 

The Captain’s jaw worked, his frustration bleeding through. “I know, I agree with you. But we can’t force someone to work with us if they don’t want to, and it’s not right to reveal someone’s identity if they don’t want to be found. Maybe they’ll change their mind. Let’s be patient, for now.” 

Stark huffed out a breath and looked to Phil. “What do you think?” 

Phil paused for only a moment. “I agree with the Captain. Patience is key, Mr. Stark.”

“Fine,” Stark grumbled, sliding underneath the Captain’s outstretched arm and tucking himself beneath it. “But we’re going to regret this, I know it.”

XX ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments are my lifeblood and push me to continue, so I would love the continued support!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I was able to crank out three chapters last week between work and school, so at least we're chugging along! Hopefully I'll be finished soon-ish so that I can update a lot quicker. 
> 
> Thanks to my new beta - thisisdanna! 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I was a bit premature in saying Avengers come in at Ch. 6...the story didn't want that happening, so it's happening in Ch. 8.

The Darkness had a name. 

Dean collapsed onto one of the kitchen’s wooden barstools, twisting slightly so that he could hold an ice pack against his bruised cheek. He and Sam had barely made it out of Valentine, where The Darkness, a literal  _ baby _ , poisoned the residents. She turned the entire town into half-crazed zombies with thick, black lines snaking their bodies until the Winchesters finally found a cure. 

They’d come out of that nightmare learning two things: 

One - The Darkness had a name.  _ Amara _ .

And two - Crowley managed to get his greedy little claws on her and decided to raise her himself. 

In other words, they were all  _ fucked _ . 

Dean  _ despised _ Crowley. The slimy bastard always acted on self-interest, and even if yours somehow aligned with his; the King of Hell would have some sort of contingency plan to fuck you over at the last second. He was untrustworthy at best, and a threat to everything Dean knew and loved.

“How are you feeling?” 

The familiar gravel voice pulled Dean from his sulking and he leaned into the strong fingers gliding through his hair. “Better now,” he told him honestly. 

Cas’ chapped lips tilted upwards and he pressed a chaste kiss to Dean’s temple. “I’m glad you’re both okay. I wish I could have been there.” 

“No,” Dean shook his head, opening his legs so that Cas could step between them. “You were busy trying to track down more information on The Darkness. If you had been in Valentine, you could have gotten sick too.” 

“From how Sam described it, I think the use of the word ‘sick’ is a bit of an understatement,” the angel muttered dryly. 

Dean chuckled, then winced, his sore shoulders moving with the movement. Cas noticed, because he brought up two fingers and let them hover above Dean’s forehead in silent request. Dean shrugged, allowing himself to relax as his angel healed him in less than a second with a quick flash of light. His pulsing headache disappeared and the tightness in his muscles dissipated.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean grinned.

The pinched expression from seeing Dean hurt gave way to a frown. “Yes, well, it seems as though healing you and your brother is the only way I can be of any help. I couldn’t find anything useful. It’s proven impossible finding any creature that has even  _ heard _ of The Darkness, much less know how to fight it. The angels I checked in with were just as clueless as I was.”

“Damn,” Dean grimaced, pushing to his feet to put the forgotten ice pack back into the freezer. “Death was the only one with any answers, and he skipped town.” 

“We could always summon him,” Sam suggested from the threshold before he stepped into the kitchen to take the barstool next to Dean.

Dean shook his head with a tendril of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. “Oh  _ hell _ no, I’m not trying that again. The dude  _ hates _ being summoned. There’s no way I’m risking it.”

“Then we’re out of options for now,” Sam grumbled. “Crowley has Amara under lock and key in Hell, so even if we did figure out how to kill her, we’d have to fight our way down there first.” 

The three of them looked at each other warily; fear, worry, and pain etched onto all of their faces. 

“Well, shit.”

XX

Dean thought their predicament couldn’t get any worse. Being forced to twiddle their thumbs and work smaller hunts until word got out about Crowley and Amara’s movements felt like they were simply waiting on more people to die.

Of course, that was when Sam had to start dreaming of the goddamn devil. 

XX

The world was bathed in blood. 

Instead of the familiar pale blue sky dotted with long, thin clouds and flocks of colorful birds, rusted red streaks painted the Earth’s backdrop. An earthquake shuddered and shook the ground, sending Sam crashing to his knees as a forest of skyscrapers crumpled behind him with a resounding  _ boom _ .

“Not a pretty sight, huh?” 

Whatever blood was left in Sam’s face drained just as quickly as he snapped his head towards the voice he’d never be able to forget. “ _ Lucifer _ .” 

The devil’s scarred and burned face grinned back at Sam as he sauntered over with his hands in ripped jean pockets. “Ding, ding, ding. Your friendly neighborhood Devil stopping by for a visit.”

“You’re still in the cage,” Sam rasped, scrambling up to his feet and stepping backwards away from his greatest fear, the panic growing like a storm in his chest. 

Lucifer shrugged, a painfully casual movement for a  _ monster _ . “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to warn you, Sammy-boy.” 

A lump stuck in Sam’s throat, white noise buzzing inside his head. “Warn me about  _ what _ ?” 

“What do you think?” The devil threw his arms out to the side and gestured to the gruesome scene around them. “ _ This _ . This is the world’s future with The Darkness on the loose.”

Sam closed his eyes and forced himself to take a few deep breaths, begging his heart rate to calm the hell down and the knot in his chest to release so he could just  _ think _ . The longer he looked at the devil’s face, the more painful the memories of being tortured in the Cage pushed towards the surface. This was a  _ dream _ . A nightmare, it had to be. All he needed to do was  _ wake up _ . 

But it wasn’t happening. 

When he opened his eyes again, Lucifer was still in the same spot, looking at him with unmistaken amusement on his charred face. “ _ Why _ ? Why would you want to warn me?” Sam asked, his voice quiet and broken. He couldn’t bring himself to be strong, not this time.

“Hmmm,” Lucifer hummed, pretending to think about it for a moment. “Because for once, you and I are on the same side. The Darkness was a  _ bitch _ to wrestle the first time around. Now that she’s free, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll kill every last one of my Father’s ‘precious’ creations,’ taking Heaven and Hell out too.” 

“Isn’t that what  _ you _ want?” 

“No!” The devil barked sharply, causing Sam to flinch backwards. “I want to  _ rule _ over you pathetic humans, not wipe you off the face of the Earth. I was cast out of Heaven because I wouldn’t bow down to you ants. What better way to screw over Big Papa than to have you all worship  _ me _ instead of  _ him _ ? And the angels need  _ someone _ to rule them, they're like baby ducks looking for the next person to follow. They’ll fall to their knees without giving it a second thought.”

An explosion to the west drew both of their attention, and they glanced as a volcano of thick black smoke rose up and began to devour the Earth. 

“You need me, Sammy-boy,” Lucifer told him with a wide smirk. “It’s only a matter of time before you come knocking on my door. I’ll be waiting.” 

Sam turned on his heel and broke out into a sprint, looking back over his shoulder and watching the smoke barrell closer and closer until it swallowed both him and Lucifer up, and all he knew was darkness. 

XX

Months passed without gaining any traction on the Darkness, and the failure was taking its toll on all of them. Physically and mentally.

To make matters infinitely worse, Sam was tormented by visions of the devil himself vying for his attention; Dean, however, was thrown into a different kind of nightmare. 

Amara. 

Their connection was weak due to the damaged Mark, that much he’d managed to work out. Somehow she still ended up slipping into his dreams every few weeks. The baby he met in Valentine was already big enough to look like she was in her early teens, even though only four months had passed. 

When he asked her  _ how the hell  _ she was growing so fast while sitting beside each other on the rusty swingset of a deserted playground, Amara grinned, sharp and with too many teeth. “I eat souls.”

Dean barely fought down the desire to gag. 

He watched her age before his very eyes. He did his best to ignore her when she hijacked his dreams, but Amara had made it perfectly clear that  _ she _ was in control of their meetings, that Dean was  _ powerless _ inside his own mind. A few failed attempts of murder and breakouts later confirmed that fact. 

Although Dean kept his gaze on anything except her, Amara watched him steadily with her clever, bottomless, dark eyes as if she were waiting for something. With each month that passed, her presence became heavier, chaotic, and pressing while he, in turn, felt weaker.

When Cas finally made the connection between Amara’s growing power and Dean’s failing health, Dean thought the whole damn bunker would crumple under the weight of his anger. 

“She’s  _ poisoning _ you,” the angel spat, shoving the ancient textbook down onto the library table with a snarl. “Whatever bond you two share between the Mark is hurting you while it strengthens her.”

Sam was on his feet across from Dean, eyebrows furrowed and face pale. “It would explain why you’re so exhausted all the time.”

Dean wanted to argue, to tell them that they were both crazy and that he was  _ fine _ . But... it was true. Slowly, but surely, he’d felt as if all of the energy he had was trickling out of him. They’d gone on a few hunts here and there to keep busy, but more often than not, he ended up letting Cas or Sam do the heavy lifting. 

“What if…” Sam hesitated. “What if we had a way to stop Amara?”

“But we don’t,” Dean frowned at him. When his brother began chewing on his bottom lip, a nervous tick he’d had since he was a kid, Dean shook his head furiously. “Don’t even  _ think _ about it, Sammy. Lucifer is just trying to mess with your head.” 

Sam huffed out a breath and took a seat, running his long fingers through his disheveled hair. “I know, I know. But wouldn’t it be a good idea to just fact check him? If Lucifer really is the only being alive that has the kind of power to fight the Darkness, don’t you think we should at least look into it?”

“And how would we even do that?” 

“Crowley,” Cas answered, coming to stand beside Dean’s chair. “He’s been the King of Hell since Lucifer was put back in the cage. If anyone would know what he’s truly capable of, it’s him.” 

Dean groaned, dropping his head towards the table and letting it rest against the cool surface for a moment. “Like he would do anything to help us. But  _ fine _ ,” he mumbled, looking back up at his family. “Check to see if we have the ingredients for the summoning spell. I’ll make sure the pentagram down in the dungeon is still intact.” 

He pushed himself up to his feet and ignored the worried looks behind him. No matter what the two of them thought, Dean wasn't  _ debilitated _ . He could draw the damn pentagram with his eyes closed. Once he made his way downstairs, Dean shoved the metal bookcases to the side, which moved easier since he installed wheels on the bottom. He found the boxes of chalk in one of the organized containers on the shelf and got to work. 

Before long, Dean had drawn the reinforced symbol on the dungeon epoxied floor and Sam was crouched down next to him with the ingredients mixed together in a bowl. Cas stood a few feet away, a frown touching his lips as he watched the two Winchesters.    
  
“Okay, I think that’s everything,” Sam said, standing to his feet and giving Dean a hand up. He lit a match and dropped it in, stepping back as the flush of power washed over them. 

Between one second and the next, Crowley appeared before them, his stark black suit as spotless as ever, and his matching murky red pocket square and tie standing out above the lick of flames. His dark eyes widened for a moment as he realized where he was. “Ah, Squirrel, Moose, Giraffe. Have you forgotten how a telephone works? It’s quite rude to yank someone out of their home so unexpectedly.”

“We’ll remember that for next time,” Sam told him with a scowl. “What are you doing with Amara?”

Crowley huffed, bringing up a hand to scratch at his perfectly trimmed beard. “Is it always business before pleasure with you three?” He shook his head and a classic smirk played across his lips. “My princess is perfectly well, thank you for asking. Daddy’s little girl.” 

“And what are you planning on doing with her?” Sam asked through gritted teeth. 

“Oh you know,” Crowley shrugged - almost too casually. “World domination, the power of a god at our fingertips, brunch on Sundays, the usual. Why?” He raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, Moose? Are you missing your favorite midnight snack? I could always arrange something for you if you’re feeling a little peckish.”

As Sam and Crowley went back and forth, Dean watched the King of Hell carefully, a feeling tugging in the back of his mind warred against Crowley’s words. When he realized what it meant, he huffed out a laugh. “You lying son of a bitch. You can’t control her anymore, can you?” 

Sam and Cas turned to him in confusion while a hint of fear lit up Crowley’s face. 

“It’s true, isn’t it? She’s too powerful for you. Amara’s working on her own dime now.” 

“Fine,” Crowley conceded with a grumble. “With the amount of souls she’s consuming, she’s growing at an exponential rate that I did not anticipate. Are you happy now?”

The three of them looked at each other with frustrated expressions before turning back to the demon. Sam took a small step forward. “ _ Happy _ ? Crowley, you basically  _ lost _ the most powerful being in existence next to  _ God _ . What the hell were you thinking?! She’s not going to just take out humans, the demons and angels will be next!” 

“Well what do you want from me?!” Crowley snapped, throwing his hands out to the side. 

“We want your  _ help _ !” Cas shouted back with equal vehemence. After a moment of tense silence, he continued with a growl. “We need to know if it's true that Lucifer knows how to destroy the Darkness.”

It was quiet as Crowley watched them carefully. He regained his composure, returning to the slimy bastard they all knew and hated. Finally, he nodded. “If anyone knows anything about Amara, it would be Lucifer as he’s the one who helped lock her away in the first place. I, myself, don’t know anything beyond that.” 

“How -” Sam hesitated. “How can we talk to him?” 

“ _ Talk to him _ ?” Dean hissed. “Are you crazy?” 

Sam shot him a glare. “ _ Yes _ , Dean, talk to him. How else are we supposed to get answers?”   
  


“And you want to trust the goddamn devil?”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do!”

“Boys,” Crowley interrupted with a nasty smirk. “Moose is right, if you want any information on Amara, you need to speak with the man of the hour. And you’re in luck, I happen to know exactly where to find him.” 

Cas crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Of course you do.” 

XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! See you next week :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case anyone hadn't guessed from my username, I live in Texas. It's been a rough week, to say the very least. For someone who's only seen snow a handful of times in her life, this has been an eye opening experience. With no power I couldn't do any writing, but at least I already had this chapter and the next finished up! I hope everyone else is staying safe. 
> 
> I appreciate all of the comments, they've been really encouraging and have kept me writing! Thanks to my beta thisisdanna

The next morning, Sam slumped into a seat at the kitchen table with heavy bags under his eyes. 

“Are you feeling unwell, Sam?” Cas asked, a pinched expression between his brow. 

Sam rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Just tired. Had another visit from Lucifer last night.”

“Oh?” Dean asked, setting a cup of coffee down for his brother. “What did he say this time?”

Sam grimaced. “He said he’ll only talk to me. You two aren’t allowed to come along.” 

“What?” Dean growled. “No way am I sending you down there by yourself!” 

“We don’t have any other choice, Dean,” Sam mumbled, sounding far more exhausted than usual. “I really don’t want to argue about this with you. I don’t have the energy for it.” 

The fight drained out of Dean’s shoulders and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He heard Hotch’s voice in the back of mind repeating, “ _ communication, communication, communication _ .” Just like with Cas, if Dean wanted him and his brother to be on the same page, he needed to express himself with  _ words _ and not just come off as aggressive and dismissive. Damnit. 

He sighed heavily and walked over to place both hands on Sam’s shoulders, tightening his grip so his brother would look him in the eye. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, Sam, I’m  _ not _ . I just -“ he hesitated. “I remember Hell. I remember every second of those goddamn forty years. When I had to see Alastair again…” Dean stepped back and brought his hand to his mouth, fighting off the bile that rose in his throat. 

“I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life. The thought of you having to face Lucifer again?” He shook his head. “I’m  _ scared _ for you.” 

The room was quiet until Sam sprang up from his chair, which clattered to the ground from the force, and wrapped his long arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him in for a crushing hug. His brother clung to him while his enormous body shook, and Dean patted his back in an awkward attempt at comfort. “It’s okay, Sammy. I’ve got you.” 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Sam whispered close to his ear. “Thank you.” 

Dean made eye contact with Cas from across the room, his lips tugging upwards slightly when he saw his boyfriend’s expression, full of concern and pride. Big softie. 

When Sam pulled away, his brown eyes were red-rimmed and shining. “It’s the only way, Dean. I hate this just as much as you do, but Lucifer won’t talk if you two are with me.” 

“I know, Sammy,” Dean sighed heavily, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll be here.” 

XX

The Cage was just as horrifying as he remembered. The reinforced iron bars stood in the center of a dark cavern as black, heavy shadows flickered from the light of the flames lining the curved walls. Crowley and Rowena stood at least thirty yards away, keeping their distance from the figure hungrily pacing the edges of the cage. Blood red eyes shone through the darkness, fixated on Sam and the urge to recoil hit him even harder than anticipated. 

_ Fuck _ , Dean was right, he shouldn’t be here. Sam never thought he’d have to return to Hell, at least not in this lifetime. He’d believed that after everything he and his brother had done for humanity, for  _ Heaven _ , that God might reward him somehow. Maybe one day he’d be allowed to  _ rest _ with his brother and Cas by his side. Maybe there’d be a girl that understands his demons and lifestyle and still love him for it. 

_ Maybe, maybe, maybe _ . 

It was all bullshit, just like Dean always said. Because now he was in Hell, trying to build up the confidence to face his torturer once again. The same monster who ripped his soul to shreds over and over  _ and over  _ again for one hundred and twenty years, or ten months up on the surface. His worst nightmares were standing right in front of him yet again, only this time it was  _ real _ . 

Sam really, really shouldn’t be here. 

But he didn’t have any other choice. 

“Sammy-boy,” the voice that had been haunting him for years now called out from the shadows. “I said that you’d come, didn’t I?” A laugh, sharp and boisterous, sounded. “I do love being right.” 

Taking a few more deep breaths, Sam steeled his nerve and clung to the voice in his head that always sounded like Dean, telling him to be strong.  _ He could do this _ . If he wanted to save the world from Amara, if he wanted to save his  _ brother _ , then Sam needed to get a freaking grip. “What do you know about the Darkness?” 

Lucifer hummed, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “If you want answers, you’ll need to come a little closer.” 

Sam swallowed, rubbing a hand over his face before taking a few steps forward. The sound echoed off the walls of the cavern. He had to force himself not to look back over his shoulder at Crowley or Rowena. “What do you know about the Darkness?” He repeated. 

Closer now, the same charred face from his nightmares looked back out at him from within the cover of shadows. “Let’s see if you can figure it out for yourself,” Lucifer mused. “Who do  _ you _ sometimes want to lock up and throw away the key when they’re being self-destructive? Who is able to get underneath your skin like no one else?”

A few moments of shocked silence at Lucifer’s description passed as Sam tried to work out the clue in his head. The person Lucifer was describing was Dean...but - but that wasn’t possible, was it? The Darkness, Amara, she couldn’t be…

Could she?

“God has a  _ sister _ ?” 

Lucifer clapped his hands together, the sound causing Sam to flinch back. “Correct-a-mundo! Dad somehow got it into his head that his sister would break all of his new favorite toys, so he had his children, the archangels, bring her down. He tasked his favorite son, yours truly, with the Mark to keep her contained.”

“But the Mark…” Sam hesitated. He’d seen what it had done to Dean, a  _ human _ . What would it have done to something as powerful as an archangel?

“Is a  _ curse _ ?” Lucifer spat, the sulphuric air around them pressing down on Sam’s chest. “Yeah, figured that one for myself, thanks. And did Dad do anything to help me?  _ No _ !” His fingers curled around the bars of the cage. “He left me with the Mark, because keeping The Darkness locked away was more important than his  _ son _ .” 

Sam didn’t know what to say to that. He was no stranger to asshole fathers, but after all he had heard about God up to this point, Sam thought he was more absent than anything. He didn’t realize that God had actually  _ cursed _ one of his own children, be it a mistake or not. 

Either way, Sam needed to get Lucifer back on track. Continuing down this line of thinking would only make him more dangerous. 

“And you think you can actually kill The Darkness?” 

Lucifer’s grin was wide and feral with too many teeth as he leaned towards Sam. “My brothers and I had orders not to kill Amara when we took her down the first time. Dad must have harbored  _ some _ kind of affection for her in his cold, dead heart, so this time I’ll be happy to rip her apart just to see him  _ suffer _ .” 

Sam grimaced, feeling queasy at having such a bloodthirsty conversation, not that he was the least bit surprised. Revenge was the devil’s game. “How exactly do you plan on fighting her? You had Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel with you last time.”

“I’ll have help,” He answered immediately, watching Sam with those piercing red eyes like he knew something Sam didn’t. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that just yet. First things first, those two over there,” he nodded towards Rowena and Crowley, who had stiffened at the attention. “Are going to break me out. The Cage was weakened when Amara was set loose.” 

Sam swallowed hard. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming….”

Lucifer threw his head back and laughed again, the sound sending painful chills down Sam’s spine as it reverberated off the cavern walls. “This is why we’re so great together, Sammy-boy. You’re right, I can’t just walk out willy-nilly onto the surface once I’m busted out.”

He grinned again. “I’m going to need a vessel.”

XX

They argued about it for weeks. 

When Sam made it back, unharmed but mentally wrecked, Dean hadn’t let him out of his sight for  _ days _ . His little brother argued about it the first few hours, but after the two of them fell asleep together on the couch after watching Scooby Doo reruns, Sam clung to him and thanked Dean for being there for him. 

Which - yeah. That’s what older brothers were for, right? 

Sam was resigned in his thinking that he’d have to let Lucifer use him as a meatsuit, which both Dean and Cas vehemently disagreed with. One: allowing the devil access to his True Vessel would bring the world crashing to its knees, and that wasn’t even counting Amara. Two: Sam had been through  _ enough _ . There was no way in Hell he was going to risk losing his little brother to Lucifer again. Let the goddamn world burn for all he cared. 

Finally, the two of them were screaming weakly at each other in the den about their situation when Cas stomped over and pushed them both backwards, sending them crashing onto separate couches. “That is  _ enough _ !” 

The angel’s righteous anger was enough to snap them out of it. “Cas?” Dean asked, rubbing the spot on his chest. 

“Sam will  _ not _ be saying yes to Lucifer,” he commanded, eying them both with his piercing blue gaze. Relief washed over Dean in waves until his boyfriend continued. “Because  _ I _ will.” 

Dean was back on his feet in an instant, renewed energy being pulled from some hidden reservoir. “ _I_ _don’t fucking think so!”_ He snarled. 

“I’m not asking for your permission, Dean.” His gravel voice was hard and unmoving, but Dean wasn’t about to let it go at the drop of a hat.

He turned towards Sam for support, but his brother had stepped back with a thoughtful expression. “Sammy?” Dean croaked. 

Sam’s face softened, but he ultimately found the strength to nod in Cas’ direction. “It’s a good idea, Dean. It’s a strong vessel, and that would mean having his return on our terms instead of Lucifer’s.” 

“You mean  _ Cas _ ,” Dean shouted, pushing into his brother’s space, “not an  _ it _ !”

At least the son of a bitch had the balls to look guilty at that. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just - it’s the best option we’ve got.” 

“He’s right,” Cas told him seriously. And those damn eyes were fixated on him now, pleading for Dean to understand. “It’s  _ my _ choice. I told you that I would do anything to keep you safe and I meant it. You’re  _ dying _ , Dean. I know, I’ve watched you for months. Killing Amara is the only way to save you.”

“No,” Dean argued weakly, collapsing into the angel’s outstretched arms. He was dimly aware of Sam leaving the room, but all of his attention was on Cas, who was threading his fingers through Dean’s hair and holding him close.

“It’s going to be okay, Dean. I promise. I will do everything in my power to come back to you, you know I will.”

But Dean would not be placated. 

They spent the next few days ‘planning,’ but in reality, Dean was simply drawing out the inevitable. Once Lucifer was free, they would have no other choice but to work with Rowena and Crowley to find a spell or something that could give Lucifer a power boost against Amara. Dean was practically useless at this point as the Mark kept draining his energy. Sam wouldn’t be showing up to the party hopped up on demon blood this time because with the Book of the Damned, there was a good chance they would find something useful.

When they weren’t crammed in the library, Dean and Cas rarely surfaced for air. 

He fully expected Cas to come back, there was no doubt in his mind. Cas  _ was _ coming back, because if he didn’t, Dean would  _ raze _ both Heaven and Hell. 

However, a small, dark piece of doubt in Dean’s mind had him trying to talk Cas out of his plan, to convince him that there was another way. He spent every waking moment memorizing the angel with eyes, with his tongue, with his heart.

“If…” Dean whispered one night after their second bout of sex. He was sore and aching, but  _ settled _ . They were lying together with Dean’s head on Cas’ chest, the most comfortable position they’d found themselves in during their time together. “If something goes wrong and you don’t come back…” He sighed, burying himself in Cas’ warmth. “What am I going to do? I can’t do this without you.”

Cas tugged him in tighter. “Yes you can.”

“ _ But I don’t want to _ .”

XX

Amara rolled her eyes as the preacher, perched atop the edge of the stone fountain in a pressed grey suit with a disastrous pattern, continued to scream into his megaphone. These humans naively believed their God was still with them, that he cared about what happened to them. 

What a  _ ridiculous _ notion. 

“When the end comes, and  _ come it will _ , only the forgiven will ascend to Holy Grace!” He cried with a shaking fist in the air. The puppets surrounding the man muttered a wave of agreement. “He is watching. He is waiting!”

Finally, Amara couldn’t hold her tongue anymore. She stepped forward, the humans moving aside as easily as water. “This is God you’re speaking of?” She mused, “Do you really think he’s watching?” 

The preacher pulled his megaphone away from his face and narrowed his dark eyes at her. “Yes, and deciding which of us is worthy. Only the chosen will be raised to Heaven!” 

His simpleton followers made another uproar of agreement.  _ Ants _ . The lot of them.

She snorted. “Oh, and that’s  _ you _ ?” Amara smirked with condescension. “Truthfully, I don’t think he’s all that interesting.” It was true, she always had bigger and better ideas than her brother. “He doesn’t even seem to be around, and believe me...I’ve searched.” 

“Stop right there, sister!” The preacher held out a palm, straining against his ill-fitting suit. “Beg for his forgiveness, or face his almighty wrath.” 

Well that was the first piece of valuable information she’d come across since being freed from her prison. “Really? Gets annoyed, does he?” 

“Wrath shows itself in many forms, but only God is able to create the fearsome plagues and bring destruction on unearthly levels!”

“Hmmm,” Amara hummed. She focused her attention to the fountain, reaching out a hand towards the centerpiece. “Like this?” 

The water trickling from the spout spurted a few times until blood ran down the sides. Gasps and screams were heard around her, but she paid them no mind. She kept her attention on the gobsmacked preacher.

He was snapping his head between the blood and Amara, horror etched on his drawn face. “Are you - I - are you testing us?”

“No,” Amara grinned, tipping her head up towards the darkening sky. The black clouds swirled dangerously with shadows until strikes of lightning rained down onto the preacher’s supporters, crashing through their hearts and sending them to the cold, hard, ground. 

Once the preacher was dead, his charred skeleton frozen in terror, she stepped up beside him. “I just want to see my brother.” 

XX

“Dean,” Cas hesitated, taking his eyes off of the shaky video footage Sam found online and pinning Dean with a mountain of words he couldn’t say. 

“Yeah,” Dean rasped, pulling his angel into his arms and burying his face in his neck. “I know.”

XX

The whiskey was warm as it slid down Dean’s throat. The bar wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people hovering within the small space that it made his muscles tense even tighter than they already were. A soft rock playlist lit up from the jukebox, but he didn’t pay it any mind. 

All he wanted to do was drink. And forget. 

Forget that Cas had flown the coop,  _ again _ , to help in the only way he knew how. 

Stupid bastard. Dean knew that Cas would do anything to keep him safe, but working with Lucifer had never been in the realm of possibility. By now the devil might already be using his angel as a meatsuit, and Dean wasn’t sure if he would ever see Cas again. 

_ Fuck _ . 

The chime above the bar’s double doors rang, then again after a few moments. The patrons milling about began murmuring, most likely in response to the newcomer. Dean just asked the bartender to hit him again. Screw everyone else. 

Soft footfalls came nearer, quiet but sure. A man, Dean guessed. He tipped back his drink. “Get lost,” he growled. Dean wasn’t in the mood for company. Not now, maybe not ever. 

The man didn’t turn away. Instead, Dean heard the rustle of paper, but kept his eyes forward. He was acutely aware of the knife within reach, but he didn’t think he needed it. The air hadn’t changed from curious to hostile. 

  
Yet. 

“Mr. Winchester,” a gentle, low voice said. “My name is Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, or SHIELD, for short. I spoke with your colleague a few months ago, an Agent Hotchner with the FBI?”

The buzzing in the back of Dean’s mind clouded his surroundings, leaving just the two of them standing in the bar. The sounds became muted, but still he refused to slide his gaze towards the man. 

Agent Coulson hummed, as if he was expecting this response. Probably was, if he’d been watching Dean for the better part of a year. “I’d like to speak with you regarding a few incidents that have been occurring over the past few months, and namely the incident from yesterday. I believe that you, and perhaps your brother, and colleague could be of assistance to SHIELD in neutralizing the threat.”

Colleague. 

This asshole thought Cas was a fucking  _ colleague _ . An acquaintance. As if the angel wasn’t Dean’s other half, his  _ soulmate _ . 

The reminder hurt. The grief shot forward to the surface and Dean tried to shove it back down with another swig of whiskey. Cas was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Maybe Lucifer would show up again, but he’d be wearing Cas. 

“Mr. Winchester?” Coulson tried again when he still didn’t get a response. 

Dean would be lying if he said that he and Sam could figure this whole shitstorm out by themselves. Working with Crowley and Rowena was sure to blow up in their faces even if they were on the same side. He and his brother had been working nonstop for the last six months and had nothing to show for it. Maybe a fresh set of eyes could help…

And Bobby had trusted this clown, right? And Dean always knew he could count on Bobby. 

Maybe Coulson or SHIELD or whoever the fuck they worked with could help him get Cas back. Anything was worth it if they saved the angel from himself. 

_ Fuck _ . Dean knocked back the rest of his drink, relishing in the burn that greeted him. 

  
“Take a seat, Agent, or get the hell out.”   
  
XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? I know some people aren't Destiel shippers, but I love the two of them. See y'all next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who commented and checked in after the power outages in Texas, I really appreciate it <3
> 
> And I love all of the comments regarding the story coming in. I'd love to hear what you'd like to see happen, what you're hoping for, etc. I've gotten 10 chapters completed so far(around 26K), and it will probably end up being around 13-15 chapters. Still flushing things out. Anyway, thanks for reading. Enjoy!

After a moment of hesitation, Agent Coulson slid into the creaky barstool beside Dean. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Mr. Winchester.” 

“Dean,” he corrected with a self-patronizing snort. “Mr. Winchester was my dad.”

Coulson gave a sharp nod, turned in his seat so that he could face him. “Dean, then. I would like to enlist in your services in neutralizing a common threat. A former associate of yours, Bobby Singer, told me that I should get in touch with you if we needed a consultant for the supernatural cases we come across.” 

Dean played through the conversation with Hotch a few months prior and sent a sneer in Coulson’s direction. “Yeah, and instead of reaching out when you were supposed to, you decided to put me under surveillance. So fuck you very much.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

“We were under the impression that you and your brother were wanted murderers, not to mention legally deceased,” Coulson replied dryly. “You can see our hesitation to engage with you directly.” 

“And what changed your mind?” 

Coulson watched him carefully as he explained. “Your interaction with Agent Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team in Cheyenne, Colorado.” When Dean didn’t react, he continued. “Once I realized that one of the most respected teams in the FBI not only  _ didn’t _ arrest you both upon sight, but pulled the profile they wrote on you and your brother, I figured I must be missing a few key pieces of information.”

Dean shrugged, neither confirming or denying this. He honestly couldn’t bring himself to care what Agent Coulson and his SHIELD buddies thought of him. Not while the grief of losing Cas was still so fresh. 

“So, Dean, can we work together on this?” 

He thought about it, tried to put as much available energy into really considering the offer. However, Dean just couldn’t find the right headspace for it. He grunted, finishing his drink in a single swoop and pushing up to his feet, throwing some cash on the bar and moving towards the door. “Gotta make a call,” he threw back to Agent Coulson, who attempted to follow for a moment before sitting back down.

Dean found himself outside, the cool air doing its best to sober him up as he leaned against the faded brick wall. Finally, he mustered up the courage to pull his phone from his pocket and bring it up to his ear. 

The other line rang once - twice - three times before, “This is Agent Hotchner.”

“Hiya Hotch.” 

“Dean?” His friend sounded surprised to hear from him, which made sense, really. He usually didn’t call during business hours. “Is everything okay?” 

Dean cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, sure.” He took a few moments to pull himself together before shaking his head. “Actually, no, it’s not.”

The sound of a door closing on the other line told him that Hotch had moved somewhere for privacy. “What’s going on?”

“ _ Cas _ ,” Dean choked out, the words barely above a whisper, “Cas is  _ gone _ . The Darkness, Amara, she’s too powerful for any one of us. He had to make a play that could give us a chance and…” He bit the inside of his cheek so hard that it drew blood, the taste of copper filling his mouth. “I don’t know if he’s going to make it out.” 

“Oh, Dean,” Hotch sighed heavily, pain evident in his voice. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know how much he means to you.” 

Dean nodded, even though his friend couldn’t see him, and pushed past the silence Hotch was giving him. “Listen, you remember that Agent who came by the Bureau looking for me a few months ago?”

“Remember? It’s a little hard to forget.” 

“Well…” Dean faltered, shooting a quick glance at the cracked door to the bar. “Dude’s here. In Kansas. Showed up while I was trying to drown myself in whiskey. Wants me to ‘consult’ with him on the shit that's going on.” 

Hotch was quiet as he pieced through the information. “What did you say?” 

“Nothing yet,” Dean admitted. “I can’t even  _ think _ right now, and Sammy doesn’t know that he tried reaching out in the first place. I have no idea what to do.”

A comforting hum sounded on the other line. “Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time. What do you  _ want _ to do? Do you want to try working with Agent Coulson? Or do you and Sam want to continue working alone?” 

Shit, they would be alone, wouldn’t they? Because Cas was  _ gone _ , had left to go say yes to the freakin’  _ devil _ . Lucifer was probably wearing his angel as a meatsuit by now, and Dean had no idea if Crowley or Rowena could actually do anything besides make things worse. He hated putting his trust in them. If he could choose another option -  _ any _ other option, then it was probably for the best.

“We need help, Hotch. Everything’s a mess.”

“There you go, Dean. That’s good. Asking for help is the first step in fixing it,” Hotch told him, the praise making Dean’s tense shoulders sag in relief. “If you and Sam are going to work with SHIELD, I would suggest agreeing with a few stipulations. You want to know what they have on you and your brother. You two have so much history, and should be aware of how the people you’ll be working with perceive you. Second, there has to be an agreement where they will not arrest you after they have what they need. Non negotiable. I won’t see you behind bars, especially if Castiel isn’t available to break you out.” 

“Hotch,” Dean groaned with a deep grimace. He tipped his head back against the wall, wincing slightly at the burn. It only made the throbbing between his temples worse as he tried to take mental notes of what they needed. The exhaustion wasn’t helping his attention span either, and a sharp pain on his arm made him hiss and roll up his sleeve. 

After watching a full grown Amara shish-kabob those people in the park like it was nothing yesterday, angry black lines began sinking into his skin, snaking a dark path away from the Mark. They pulsed in tandem with his heartbeat and continued to draw short, pained breaths from Dean. God, he couldn’t  _ handle _ this right now. He was so goddamn  _ tired. _ Everything  _ hurt _ . 

“I can’t,” he rasped, his chest tightening with panic and his vision blurring at the edges. “I can’t deal with all of this. Shit, Hotch, I just -” His breathing quickened as his lungs fought for air, and he scrambled to hold onto something solid. 

“ _ Dean _ ,” Hotch cut him off sharply, breaking him out of his downward spiral. “Take a deep breath for me.” 

Dean did, panting harshly for a few moments before he could finally draw a deeper breath. The noise was audible enough that an older man walking by eyed him with concern until Dean waved him off. 

“Good job, now do it again.” 

He continued following his friend’s directions until the haze that had settled over his mind finally cleared. “Thanks Hotch.” 

Dean could practically hear his friend’s soft smile from the other line. “Anytime, Dean. You know I mean that. Now, give the phone to Agent Coulson.” 

“What?” He asked incredulously.

“Give the phone the Coulson,” Hotch repeated. “I’ll handle it, trust me.” 

Dean swallowed, debating for only a few moments before reluctantly agreeing. He had called Hotch for a reason, didn’t he? It sounded ridiculous even in his head, because Dean was almost thirty freakin’ years old, but Hotch was  _ a real life adult _ . The thought of handing over the reins to someone he trusted for even a little bit made the buzzing in his head relent just a fraction. It was too tempting to pass up.

He took in another deep breath and went back inside, pushing through the small crowd of people to get to the man who hadn’t moved from his spot at the bar. Dean held the phone out for him to take without explanation. 

Coulson raised a questioning brow but took it nonetheless and held it up to his ear. His expression cleared after a moment. “Ah, Agent Hotchner.” 

They went back and forth for a few minutes until Coulson ended the call with a nod. “Understood, thank you. We’ll see you soon.” 

Dean’s gaze snapped back towards Coulson from where it had begun to wander. “What?” 

“Agent Hotchner and a member of his team will be meeting us in New York as your liaisons. Assuming that you and your associates will be consulting for SHIELD, that is.” 

It wasn’t necessarily a question, but Dean nodded nonetheless. “I need to talk to Sammy, but -” he swallowed, “Yeah, we’ll help.”

Coulson gave him a hint of a smile before standing up and holding out a card. “Excellent. I can have someone help you arrange flights and your hotel in New York. We’d like you there as soon as possible.” 

“Uh, no,” Dean snorted. “You couldn’t pay me enough to get on one of those damn death traps. Sam and I are driving. We’ll hit the road today.” 

“Very well,” Coulson agreed. “Then please get in touch whenever you reach New York. We’ll be meeting at the address I’ve included on the card.”

He reached out a hand, which Dean shook. “Thank you for your help, Dean. Travel safe.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Dean grimaced. “I have a feeling you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” 

“Ten dollars says I won’t be even a little surprised.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

XX

Once he was back at the bunker, Dean went to find Sam, who ended up being camped out in the library. The book he was engrossed in was triple the size of most of their collection, and it took Dean calling his name twice to tear his attention away. 

His puppy brown eyes widened when he saw that Dean had returned at a decent hour, and  _ sober _ . “I didn’t think you’d be back so early.” 

Dean sighed, pushing down the heartache that threatened to claw up his throat, and perched atop the wooden table. “We’ve gotta talk.” 

“What’s up?” Sam asked, rightfully cautious.

“I need you to pack your bags,” he told him without preamble. “We’re going to New York as soon as we’re ready.” 

Sam sputtered, closing his book and pushing it aside to give Dean his full attention. “Why would we go to New York of all places? Do you have a lead?” His interest peaked and he scooted to the edge of his seat. “Did you find anything out about The Darkness?” 

“Not exactly,” he mumbled, palming the back of his neck. Dean took a deep breath and forced himself to look his brother in the eye. “Listen, a few months ago Hotch called and told me that an Agent from a government agency, SHIELD, had come to the Bureau asking about me.” 

He saw the shocked expression on Sam’s face and barreled on to keep his brother from freaking out. “Apparently Bobby used to do some consulting on supernatural cases for them. Before he died, he gave them my name. They didn’t trust that I wasn’t a psychotic serial killer because they put me under surveillance instead. When Amara was released, I guess they freaked out because they wanted my help.” Dean held up his hands in defense. “I told them to go screw themselves, which is why I didn’t bring it up. Civilians would have just made things worse at that point.”

“Bobby? Really? And SHIELD - the agency that did the cleanup after the attack on New York?” Sam frowned, his mind obviously trying to figure out what information he should settle on. Finally, he ran long fingers through his hair and looked back up at Dean. “Did they call again?” 

Dean grimaced. “Not exactly. A suit showed up at O’Malley’s. Wanted to try and hire me as a consultant.” 

“I guess since we’re going to New York you agreed?” Sam asked with a scowl. 

“Not exactly,” he shrugged, biting at his bottom lip. “I called Hotch. He helped me talk to him. He and someone else from the BAU are going to meet us in New York as part of our team.”

“You called Hotch?”

Dean didn’t know why Sam sounded surprised, Hotch dealt with this sort of stuff all the time. Well, kind of. Similar situations, maybe. It wasn’t such a stretch for Dean to reach out, was it?

Something must have shown on his face, because Sam shook his head with a slight upturn of his lips. “No, don’t get me wrong, it was a great idea. I just…” He hesitated before continuing. “The fact that you didn’t tell the suit to fuck off in the first place is...impressive. That you heard him out and even asked a friend you could trust for help. I’m just proud of you, that’s all.” 

The tips of Dean’s ears burned with embarrassment, but Sam had said his peace and Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He shoved off from his spot and gave his brother’s shoulder a quick punch. “Bitch.” 

“Jerk,” Sam shot right back. “So do you know what to expect when we get to New York? Did the suit give you any information?”   
  


“No,” Dean told him as he turned down the hall to his room to pack. “I guess we’ll find out soon.” 

XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? I love to think that meeting Hotch helped Dean mature into a real life adult with feelings and communication skills. Not that I know what that's like, I'm 26 and still figuring out how to do that. 
> 
> See y'all next Friday!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I hope everyone had a wonderful week, and is looking forward to the weekend!
> 
> Enjoy <3

The drive to New York was brutal enough that Dean didn’t even complain when Sam offered to take over. After his grip on the wheel began trembling, he reluctantly pulled over to the shoulder and slid across the seat wordlessly while his brother walked around to the driver’s side. It was a quiet trip while Dean rested, trying to build up enough energy to survive the next few days. They didn’t know much about SHIELD other than the fact that they were a clean up crew, and Hotch wasn’t able to give them any information either. It felt wrong to be going into something so important blind, but they didn’t have a lot of options to choose from. 

A little under forty hours later, they pulled up to the circle drive of the hotel Hotch sent them to. The first thing they noticed was the damn fountain sitting in the center of a cobblestone courtyard, a feature that screamed expensive and way out of their price range. Dean’s brow furrowed as he exchanged a confused glance with Sam before climbing out of the car. A kid, who couldn’t have been older than twenty-one, dressed in a deep red uniform rushed out to meet them with a gleam of appreciation in his eye when he got a look at the Impala. 

“Good evening, Gentlemen. Welcome to the Four Seasons, may I take your bags while you check in? I can give you a valet ticket while I take care of your car.” 

“There’s no way in hell-” Dean started angrily, his hackles raising at the thought of anyone besides Cas or Sammy touching his Baby, but Sam cut him off with a light touch to his arm. 

“Just a moment,” he told the valet good-naturedly. “We just need to talk to our friend to make sure we’re in the right place.” 

Judging by the not-so-subtle distaste for their love of flannel, the kid must have been skeptical as well. Part of Dean wanted to sweep the kid’s leg out from under him to teach him a lesson in respect, but the more mature, rational part of him wanted to just find Hotch. 

As if his thoughts summoned him, Hotch strolled out from behind the automatic double doors wearing his usual black suit and a small smile tugging at his lips. “Dean, Sam, it’s good to see you.” All of the tension drained from Dean’s shoulders as he crashed into his friend, holding on as tight as he could and shoving down the sudden wave of emotion that had his eyes burning. Hotch clapped him on the back before pulling away to hug Sam. Behind him, a familiar face grinned with barely restrained excitement. 

“Reid!” Dean gushed, reeling the young doctor in. “I wasn’t sure who was coming to the rescue, but I’m glad it was you, buddy.” 

The tips of Reid’s ears burned as he stepped away from Dean to embrace Sam quickly. “I could say the same thing, but…” he hesitated, taking in Dean’s appearance. “You look awful.” 

“Thanks for that,” Dean muttered before turning back to the valet who was watching the interaction with a glimmer of interest. “You, I don’t want to see so much as a  _ fucking scratch _ on this Baby, do you hear me? I’ll skin you alive if she’s in less than perfect condition when I see her next.” 

“Dean!” Sam chastised, pulling a few dollars out of his wallet and placating the kid who had turned beet red, the coloring matching his uniform quite well. 

They decided to take their bags with them instead of leaving them in the car, but Hotch shouldered Dean’s own when he moved to pick it up. “I’ve got it. We’ll show you both to your room and then we can meet back in ours to catch up.” Dean felt a little embarrassed, but ultimately decided not to argue with Hotch trying to take care of him. 

Inside was grander than Dean had ever imagined, and he had to force his jaw back up off the gold-plated tile. The three crystal chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, reflecting off the sleek wood lining the high walls. 

He cleared his throat as they moved towards the elevator. “Uh, don’t you think this is a little...excessive?” 

Hotch smirked, looking back over his shoulder. “I was curious how invested SHIELD was to have you consult for them. Turns out, the answer is very.” 

Dean shared a look with Sam and followed Hotch and Reid up to the fourteenth floor. “We’re three rooms down,” Reid explained. “Go ahead and settle in, then head over whenever you’re ready.”

They thanked the two agents and pushed into their room, pleased to see the two comfortable-looking queen beds behind a door off of the sitting room. Sam whistled and set his bag on the floor. “This is…”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, shaking his head. “I know.” 

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Mind if I take the first shower?”

Dean shrugged, flopping back onto one of the beds and closing his eyes. They had been on the road for a little under two days and he wished the trip hadn’t taken so much out of him. He hated being so damn weak, it was driving him  _ crazy _ . There wasn’t exactly a timeline on how much longer he had until he keeled over, but Dean was sure that when Amara hit her stride, that’d be the end of it. 

Lucifer was supposed to have all of the answers, but...but what if he didn’t? What if he didn’t know how to reverse whatever was happening to Dean, or break the connection between Dean and Amara? 

What if Cas was lost and Dean was on borrowed time? 

His train of thought was interrupted by the smack of a wet towel against this face. Sam chuckled and zipped up his jeans as he walked out of the large bathroom. “Get your ass up, Jerk.”

“Ugh, Bitch,” Dean rolled his eyes and pulled himself up, grabbing a set of clothes from his bag before striding into the bathroom. It was elegant, no surprise there, with a full clawfoot tub and separate shower. He wondered yet again what SHIELD did to afford to put Dean and his “team” up in a place like this. 

The hot water was a godsend (he grimaced as soon as the thought crossed his mind) and he breathed in the humid air gratefully. Dean already felt a thousand times better as he stepped out from underneath the spray to dry off. 

Sam was waiting for him back in the room and took a moment to examine Dean head to toe, giving him an approving nod. At least that meant he looked better too. “Ready?” 

They walked over and knocked on the agents’ door, pleased to see Reid in fuzzy pajama pants and bare feet when he opened it for them. He grinned and ushered them inside. “Come on in.” 

“Thanks Spence,” Sam told him, accepting a beer from Hotch who was leaning against the threshold of the sitting room. 

Dean took one as well and hugged his friend once again before sitting down next to Hotch. “How are you two doing?” 

“Doing well, thank you,” Hotch answered with a small smile. “We’ve solved the last few cases without any additional deaths, so that’s been encouraging. Jack is as wonderful as ever.” 

Dean sighed happily and took a sip of his beer. “I bet the rascal has grown a few inches since I’ve seen him, huh? Sammy shot up like a tree at that age.” 

Sam snorted. “I don’t know about that. How about you, Spence?”

“I’ve been dabbling in Latin for the past few weeks,” Reid rummaged through his backpack beside the end table and pulled out  _ The Tale of Cupid and Psyche _ by Lucius Apuleius. “It’s a fantastic read.”

Sam took the offered book and his eyes lit up with interest. 

“Before we fall down that rabbit hole,” Hotch mused. “Why don’t you catch us up on what’s been happening?” He brought out a tablet and placed it on the table between the Winchesters. “Agent Coulson sent me the files I requested, the full report on both of you, and everything they worked on with Bobby Singer.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Woah, I wouldn’t have even thought about getting that information.” 

Hotch chuckled, nudging his shoulder against Dean’s. “I told you I’d take care of everything, didn’t I? Now, tell us what’s been going on.”

The Winchesters spent the next hour updating the agents on their lives over the past year. By the time they finished, Hotch was up in his feet pacing anxiously with the first three buttons of his shirt undone and his tie loose while Reid was on the floor with his fingers gripping his long hair. 

“Are you -“ the younger agent swallowed, his voice shaking with barely restrained fear.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded slowly, not complaining when Hotch gripped his shoulder a tad too tightly from behind. “I know, it sucks.” 

Reid chuckled wetly, tossing his head back against the armchair. “Understatement of the year.” 

“We’re banking on Lucifer finding us when Rowena and Crowley break him out of the Cage. He’s the only one who has any kind of information on Amara, and he’s by far the most powerful being with a chance at stopping her.” 

Hotch groaned, running a calloused hand across his face. “I do not have the appropriate mental capacity to grasp the  _ devil _ being an actual ally in the fight against God’s sister.” 

Dean couldn’t help the slight upturn of his lips. He had to admit that looking at their situation from an outside perspective was...interesting. If he were Hotch or Reid, he’d think their story was nuts. 

“And he’ll know how to help you, Dean?” Hotch asked, his voice lower and tougher than normal. 

He shrugged, “We hope so. If Amara’s out of the way, then I should get better. Either way, SHIELD doesn’t need to know about my situation. We should just stick to the facts tomorrow.” 

Hotch and Reid shared a frown. The younger agent gripped the couch cushions above him. “That doesn’t give us a lot of confidence. What if you don’t get better when Lucifer kills Amara?” 

“That’s not an option,” Sam growled from his chair. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees. “Lucifer will help us get rid of the Darkness, and then Dean will be back to normal.” 

The silence in the room spoke to how little everyone trusted Sam’s statement. There were no guarantees in this life, they all knew that, and believing that the  _ devil _ of all people had the answers wasn’t something any of them were willing to do. 

Dean cleared his throat and gestured weakly towards the tablet. “Er, you said Coulson sent over a few files?” 

Hotch, bless him, understood that Dean was ready to move on from that topic. “Yes, go ahead and take a look. Yours and Sam’s reports are a little denser than what the FBI has on you both, but ultimately it only covers your encounters with the authorities. There are a few potential bases that you’ve used during the time they began their surveillance, but it doesn’t sound like they’ve pinpointed exactly where the bunker is.”

Sam hummed his agreement as he read through the reports, then flicked his eyes back up to the agents. “They made notes, or guesses, of supernatural explanations for our actions.” 

“They did. From what it sounds like, they attempted to cross reference Bobby’s information with what they knew about you two.”

Dean leaned over to get a glimpse of the tablet as well. “Did they get anything right?” 

Sam snorted with a shake of his head. “Bobby must have given them the bare minimum, because I only see notes in here about things like vampires, werewolves, skinwalkers, and ghosts. Angels and demons aren’t included anywhere, and they’ve been the most active problem we’ve had.”

“It makes sense,” Reid said, finally pushing himself up to sit next to Dean on the couch. “From what you’ve told us about Bobby, he doesn’t trust most people. I can’t imagine him willing to give a secret government agency information that he’s spent years compiling.” 

“You’re right,” Dean nodded with a yawn. “Bobby was a paranoid son of a bitch. I don’t know what convinced him to help SHIELD in the first place, but he probably had the right idea:”

Hotch clapped both Winchesters on the shoulder. “Then we’ll follow his lead tomorrow. We give them the necessary facts and see what our options are. It’s late, and you two need to rest after your drive.” 

Reid took their empty beers and disposed of them while the brothers got to their feet. “SHIELD is sending a car at nine to take us to their facility outside of town. Meet downstairs at eight for breakfast?” 

“Sounds good to me,” Dean agreed and gave them both a quick hug. “Thanks again for coming, you two. I’m glad you’re both here.”

Hotch gave him a small smile and led them towards the door. “We’re your friends, boys. We wouldn’t let you do this alone.” 

XX

Breakfast the next morning was a more elaborate affair than Dean was used to. For once, he slept through the night without Amara digging around in his head, and judging by the lack of bags under Sam’s eyes, he had the same luck with Lucifer. 

Neither Reid or Hotch commented on the Winchesters’ apparent rest, but their relieved smiles as they sat down to order at the fancy hotel restaurant told Dean they had indeed noticed. His appetite revved up just in time for him to polish off a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and an entire stack of pancakes. Even Sam turning his nose up at Dean’s breakfast while he ate his avocado toast did nothing to curb his mounting excitement. 

Things were looking up. Dean had Sam, Hotch, and Reid by his side, he and his brother had both gotten a great night’s sleep, and they were going to meet people from SHIELD that could potentially help with the whole Amara situation. Sure, he was still holding out hope that Cas would come back sans Lucifer, but maybe they had a shot at beating the Darkness. 

The car that came for them was a sleek back Cadillac, and Hotch gestured for both Sam and Dean to fold themselves into the last row while he and Reid took the middle two seats. He felt like he was ten years old being told to sit in the way back, but Dean wasn’t about to complain about the extra layer of protection between him and the SHIELD agent wearing a stark black suit and sunglasses. Despite not being able to see his eyes, Dean felt the man’s gaze travel back towards him in the mirror every few minutes of their hour long ride out of the main hub of the city. It was unnerving, to say the least. 

Countryside replaced skyscrapers as they left the city, and soon they were pulling up to a fortified compound encased in a ten-foot metal wall with electric fences surrounding the top. Dean whistled at the sight as they approached a gate with armed guards in all black uniforms labeled with “SHIELD” on their bullet proof vests. “What kind of shit are you guys into that require your goons to run around with M4 Carbines?”

Hotch was watching the SHIELD agents closely, most likely building a profile in his head regarding the lengths this agency went to to protect its compound. The agent driving the Cadillac was met with two additional armed guards at his window, who spoke quietly with barely concealed glances back towards the car’s passengers. Finally, they were given two sharp nods and one of the goons raised a hand up, which seemed to be the signal for the gate to slide open to let them through. 

Once inside the compound, all of them stuck close to the windows to see the lots filled with military convoys and training facilities covered by enormous reinforced tents. The building siting dead center was a deep blue with a black roof covered in metallic machines and solar panels. It probably covered the length of at least four football fields, and Dean wasn’t sure where to look first. 

When they parked near the arched entrance, two soldiers opened the side doors for them and waited until everyone was out of the car before leading them towards a familiar face standing near the bullet proof glass double doors. Agent Coulson looked exactly the same as he did when Dean met him in the bar, not a hair or wrinkle out of place and a carefully neutral expression set on his face. “Dean, Sam, Agent Hotchner, Dr. Reid. Welcome to SHIELD. Thank you for coming at such short notice.” 

Each of them took the offered hand and waited with bated breath as Coulson continued. “I would like to bring you inside to introduce you to the team you’ll be working with. We’ll have a debrief on your backgrounds and then we can discuss the incident you were brought in to consult on.” He turned back towards the entrance and placed his hand on a metal panel to the right. A flash of greed light scanned his palm and then the doors slid open. “This way, please.” 

Inside was just as high-tech and modern as Dean expected it to be. Paintings of high ranking officers lined the walls while men-in-black type agents were posted along the hallway leading to a set of elevators. A woman with exceptionally curly hair watched them approach the reception desk with a wary expression. 

Coulson nodded to her. “Agent Finnigan, please have our guests set up with visitor badges.”

Agent Finnigan had each of them scan their thumb prints and take a photo before printing out white badges and a barcode with a lanyard attached through a loop at the top. Before they could proceed through the first set of security, they had to tap the barcode along another scanner and wait for the green light to pass through. After that, Sam, Dean, Hotch, and Reid were all required to take everything out of their pockets and place them on the metal table, including the concealed guns both BAU agents had on them. The metal detector was silent as it examined them and another agent waved them through once they were cleared. 

“Sorry about the precautions,” Coulson told them as he led them towards the elevators. “We take the safety of our agents seriously here.” 

“Care to explain what the hell you do here to need all of this security?” Dean asked with a furrowed brow. The elevator was large enough where the five of them had enough breathing room, but the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck still rose in alarm. He never liked enclosed spaces. 

Coulson’s lips twitched, but he was otherwise silent until they reached the third floor, where he gestured for them to follow towards a wooden door at the end of a long, bright hallway. He paused before opening it. “I’ll explain after you’ve had a chance to meet the team.”

The ominous way he said it had Dean exchanging a look with Sam, who seemed just as suspicious as his brother. 

Finally, Coulson turned the knob and pushed inside, waiting until they all filed in behind him before having another agent closing the door. Dean wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at, but Sam’s sharp intake of breath and Hotch and Reid’s sudden tension had him on alert immediately. 

Five people sat down at the long, clear glass conference table, all in different states of dress that ranged from casual khaki pants and a button up shirt, to the same black SHIELD uniforms as the other agents he’d seen, to a strange tight getup with a red cape, while another two, one in a pinstripe navy suit and red tie and the other wearing jeans and a dark green bomber jacket, watched them from near the back of the room. 

“Gentlemen, meet the Avengers.”

XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, don't hate me. I promise you'll see the Avengers in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thoughts? Feelings? How do you think everyone will react when they meet each other? 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's comments/followed/given kudos on this story. All of that gives me the motivation I need to keep writing. Y'all are wonderful.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone! FINALLY they meet the Avengers. I promise.

Dean was...confused. 

Back when they were kids, he and Sammy were stuck in McCook, Nebraska for a hunt that lasted a few days longer than planned. Dean had snuck out one night while John was gone and stole a few Captain America comic books from the local library for Sammy after he practically begged their father for one and was shut down with a harsh reminder that “fairy tales were for children.” As Sam was only six at the time, and Cap wasn’t a freakin’ princess, Dean felt safe going against his father. Just this once. 

It was worth it too, seeing the look on his brother’s face when Dean handed him the comic book. It was also worth the long weeks after that listening to Sammy drone on and on about Captain America and his Howling Commandos. He had to work to keep a positive attitude and to hold off on rolling his eyes as he heard about their adventures. Dean was more concerned with fighting off the real-life monsters that lived underneath their beds and keeping Sam blissfully ignorant for as long as possible than allowing himself to indulge in  _ superheroes _ . Yeah, he liked the idea just fine, but they weren’t  _ real _ , and they sure as hell weren’t going to come rushing in to save him or his brother when a werewolf attacked or when John got too drunk. 

They were on their own. He’d learned that very, very early on.

And it wasn’t like Dean hadn’t heard of the Avengers, because even he wasn’t too far removed from society to miss the alien invasion in New York a few years ago. But in all honesty, they’d been dealing with the Leviathans at the time, and since there were other people taking care of the aliens, Dean simply...let it go. He didn’t need any more weird shit on his mind. And then he was trapped in Purgatory for a stretch, and aliens fell straight to the bottom of his “Things To Worry About” list.

Judging by his brother’s and friends’ reactions though, he was the only one who didn’t know much about the people lounging around the conference table. There were an awkward few moments where both teams sized each other up, but Coulson broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Team, this is Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid.”

There were too many of them to be polite, so the others simply lifted a hand to say hello. Dean did no such thing. 

Probably for the best, because the next moment the man in the suit, which was probably worth more than the Impala, snorted in derision. It had Dean’s hackles raising immediately, and he couldn’t help the scowl that stretched over his lips. 

“These are the  _ experts _ you told us about? Two flannel-wearing rednecks and a pair of FBI agents who wouldn’t normally have the necessary clearance levels to even  _ know _ about this place, much less step foot inside?” 

Dean saw red. “Hey, fuck you, asshole!” Sam and Hotch grabbed onto his arms when he surged forward, and he felt, rather than heard, the inhuman growl that rumbled deep within his chest as the man in the bomber jacket, placed his hand on the dickwad’s shoulder and pulled him back with a frown. 

“Tony, now is  _ not _ the time.” He turned bright blue eyes on Dean and the others, giving them an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for my friend’s behavior, we’ve just been anxious to meet you.” 

“Meet  _ us _ ?” Sam questioned in a pitch higher than his usual, blowing past the other man’s insults like he wasn’t the least bit offended. What the  _ hell _ was happening?

The blonde stepped forward. “Yes, Agent Coulson has left us in the dark about you and your brother. Let me introduce the team. I’m Steve Rogers,” he flashed a good ol’ boy grin that had everyone except Dean relaxing, then pointed out the other people in the room. “This is Tony Stark, who’s sorry by the way.” Total bullshit in Dean’s opinion judging by the sneer on his face. “Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Dr. Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, and Thor.” 

Sam let out a shaky breath and reached a hand up to wipe at his face. “Holy shit,” he muttered a bit louder than probably intended, “I’m meeting the  _ Avengers _ right now…” Hotch held his cool, but Reid seemed just as star-struck as Sam.

Dean wasn’t sure what the big deal was. Sure, three of the dudes were jacked as fuck, and two of the others were watching him in a calculated way that was probably meant to analyze his every weakness. To be quite frank, there wasn’t anything human that could bring Dean down when the Mark was at full strength, so the intimidation factor had a lot to be desired. These super-powered assholes wouldn’t be getting any respect from him. 

“Would you all like to take a seat?” Coulson suggested from across the room, watching their interaction carefully. “I believe a debrief is in order.” 

Hotch seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and give a slight nod before pressing a hand to Dean’s back, encouraging him to sit next to the dude wearing the cape. Seriously, what the  _ hell _ was happening?

When everyone was seated, Coulson folded his hands over the table. “All of you are aware of the incident that occurred in Mission, Kansas six months ago. As Mr. Winchester and his team are the experts on the matter, they were the first ones to investigate and combat the anomaly. After the most recent incident, they have agreed to consult with SHIELD and the Avengers on a path forward.” 

Dean slumped in his chair, hunching his shoulders. He felt a little nauseous at the reminder that they hadn’t been able to do shit against Amara. Stark somehow managed to look down his nose at them, despite being a few inches shorter, like he could tell exactly what Dean was thinking. He  _ hated _ it. 

“Would you care to share your background?” 

When Sam noticed that Coulson was looking to  _ Dean _ to speak, he swallowed thickly and spoke up for his brother. “Er, yeah, I guess you can say we’re the experts. I know you’ve all dealt with aliens, considering New York and uh, Thor, but I don’t know what your experience with the supernatural is.” 

Judging by the way the Avengers perked up with interest, Dean would have to guess the answer was  _ none _ . He let out a grunt. Fuck, they were dealing with  _ amateurs _ . Even if they had come across some weird shit, they were basically as useless as civilians.

“Well, I guess Thor is a god,” Rogers answered with a confused frown. “He and his brother Loki are from Asgard, so they’re supernatural.” 

Sam looked back at Dean, Hotch, and Reid nervously. Obviously he was thinking the same thing Dean was. They’d have to start at the freaking beginning with these assholes.

Suddenly, Dean didn’t feel like sugarcoating it. His temper was a short fuse after admittedly  _ not _ coping with his grief about Cas, and thanks to Stark’s comments, he wasn’t in the mood to hold anyone’s hand through the news. He sat up and took a deep breath, earning a raised eyebrow from Hotch and Sam. 

He ignored them. 

“Yeah, that’s great and all, Soldier-Boy,” because who else could he be other than Captain America? “But we’re talking about the monsters under your bed, not men in tights from outer space.” He shot a glare at the man in question before continuing. “First off, all of those scary stories you grew up hearing about vampires and werewolves? They’re all real. Everything. Wendigos, skinwalkers, shapeshifters, the works.”

The Avengers watched him for a moment before Barnes turned to Coulson and asked, “He’s full of it, right?”

“Dude, you and Cap were born almost a century ago and still look like you’re in your twenties,” Barton, the lean blonde in the SHIELD uniform, shot him an incredulous look. “Why can’t vampires be real?” 

Stark rolled his eyes. “They’re still around because of  _ science _ , Legolas, not fairy-tales and urban legends.” 

Dean turned to Coulson as the anger bubbled up within his chest. “Why are we working with these dickheads if they won’t believe the fundamentals of what we’re up against?” 

Reid let out a small sigh when Dean referred to the Avengers as ‘dickheads,’ but ultimately kept his mouth shut. 

Coulson’s lips gave a slight twitch as he addressed his team. “Dean’s correct. SHIELD has been aware of the supernatural for over a year now. A friend of his consulted for us before he passed away.” Apparently the Avengers respected the agent enough to believe him, because their eyes all widened in surprise. 

“You knew about these potential threats and didn’t tell us?” Rogers pushed out through gritted teeth. 

Coulson wasn’t the least bit deterred by the man’s ire. “Need-to-know basis only, Captain.” 

Banner leaned forward in his chair with a green tinge in his eyes. “And you didn’t think we needed to know about this? Not even after what happened in Kansas?” 

“The Avengers are a strike team that deals with a certain threat level. SHIELD made a decision to leave the issue in the hands of the professionals until further notice. Neither us, nor the Avengers were equipped to handle the incident at the time of occurrence.” 

“Apparently neither were these clowns!” Stark pointed out, narrowing his eyes at Dean. “You’re here because you failed, right? Why did it take you this long to admit that you couldn’t do it on your own? People are  _ dead _ , Winchester! That’s on you!” 

“We didn’t  _ fail _ ,” Dean snapped back, pushing against the table and matching Stark’s stance on his feet. “We’ve still got another option, but Coulson here practically  _ begged _ us to come in, so why don’t you get off your fucking high-horse and keep your mouth shut about things you don’t know shit about!”

“ _ That’s enough _ !” Rogers barked, powerful and commanding enough to silence the room and leave both Stark and Dean panting in fury. “Sit down, both of you.” When they finally complied, he continued with a fierce glower. “We are here to work  _ together _ , end of story. Mr. Winchester and his team will explain the situation and we’ll work towards a solution as a  _ unit _ . I honestly don’t care if you hate each other, but for this to work, you need to store your animosity.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and kept his eyes on the table, feeling appropriately chastised. The tips of his ears burned at the knowledge that Hotch had just watched Captain America tear him a new one. 

His friend simply cleared his throat and attempted to move the conversation away from Stark and Dean. “Dr. Reid and I are a part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Our job is to use our expertise and experience to investigate time-sensitive violent crimes, cases involving serial killers, arsonists, and kidnappings. A little under a year ago, my team and I began working a case involving a series of suspicious deaths that all occurred in the span of two weeks, with almost identical cases stretching back fifty years during the same time period.”

“My brother and I were working the same case,” Sam explained cautiously, glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye every few seconds. “We’ve been hunting the supernatural since we were kids. The family business, you could say. The case where we met up with Hotch and the BAU team drew us in because the deaths were indicators of a crossroads demon.” 

“A  _ what _ ?” Barton asked, puzzled, leaning forward in his chair. The others looked attentive as well, but Stark’s jaw was still set tight. “Demons are  _ real _ ?”

“Like Dean said,  _ everything _ is real,” Sam told him seriously. “A crossroads demon is a higher class demon that has the power to, for lack of a better term, ‘buy’ your soul. You’ve heard the term ‘sell your soul to the devil,’ right?” He received a few slow nods in return. “That’s basically it. You can literally sell your soul for anything you want, but there’s a time restraint; the usual deal goes for ten years. A crossroads demon parading around as a psychic was convincing these victims to do just that to get their dream jobs, their dream partners, and the works. Just until the hellhounds came for them.” 

Hotch allowed Coulson and the Avengers a few moments to soak in the information. “While we were tracking down a potential victim, a hellhound attacked us in an effort to get to him. Only those marked can actually see the beasts, but we could still hear and smell the hellhound when it got close. Dean was the one who saved Dr. Reid, another agent, and myself.” Dean’s cheeks grew warm at the praise, and he resolutely ignored the re-assessing looks thrown in his direction. “He killed another one while Sam and Castiel helped my team dispose of the two crossroads demons.” 

“Who’s Castiel?” Rogers asked. When nobody answered him, his brow furrowed. “If there’s someone else who could be an asset in this case, I’d like to include them.” 

Dean could feel eyes on him, and he couldn’t resist running a hand through his shortly-cropped hair. “Don’t worry about Cas,” he said shortly, brokering no argument. 

Sam grimaced beside him. “He’s...indisposed, at the moment. It’s actually one of the reasons we’re here, working with you. We’re going to need all hands on deck to stop the Darkness.” 

“The Darkness?” Barnes scrunched up his nose, a loose strand falling from the man-bun perched on top of his head. “Sounds ominous.”

Sam blew out a breath and chuckled faintly in exasperation, turning towards the others. “I honestly have no idea how to even begin explaining this.” 

“Why don’t you start with what happened in Kansas?” Reid suggested. “They’ll catch on fast, I’m sure.” 

Dean snorted. He highly doubted that.

“Fine,” his brother agreed, shooting another glare at Dean. “A lot of this is probably going to be confusing, so I would save your questions until I’m finished.” 

He took another breath, most likely psyching himself up. “We were at an abandoned bar outside of Mission, meeting…” he faltered momentarily, “meeting  _ someone _ who could help Dean. Cas had apparently been working with Crowley and Rowena - er, the King of Hell and a powerful witch - on trying to help as well. They cast a spell, but instead of removing the - uh, instead of  _ helping _ \- it released the Darkness. God’s, um, sister.” 

He was greeted with various looks of alarm, but plowed through his messy explanation anyway. “She came back as a baby after she was free, but when we went to investigate, she had somehow turned the entire town into zombies. We were able to help the town, but Crowley got his hands on her then, so she was locked away in Hell where we couldn’t get to her. Amara grew fast though, because she, uh, eats souls, so it was only a few months before she was strong enough to overpower him. 

“I started seeing these visions, so we summoned Crowley to fact-check the information I was being given.” Sam’s expression pinched. “He confirmed it, so we had to go to...we had to ask Lucifer for help. He was one of the beings that defeated Amara in the first place, so, yeah. Lucifer was trapped in the Cage, though, and couldn’t come back to Earth without a vessel. It wasn’t really an option for him to use his True Vessel because of what happened during the apocalypse, so Cas ended up agreeing to say yes, as angels need permission to possess someone. When Amara killed those people in the park a few days ago, Cas left to go down to Hell. Coulson found Dean, Dean called Hotch, and uh, here we are.” 

Nobody spoke for a very, very long time. 

The tension that had been seeping around the room practically vibrated as disbelief, fear, and incredulity made its way on the Avengers’ faces. Finally, it was Coulson who broke the silence. He slowly reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and staring at it for a few moments before taking out a ten dollar bill and sliding it across the table. 

When Dean took it without a word, Stark burst out laughing. He covered his face with both hands while his shoulders shook, and the other Avengers looked on with expressions ranging from amused to worried. Stark swiped a tear out of the corner of his eye and shook his head with a sad grin. “I’m sorry Agent, but did you do a psych eval before you brought these lunatics in? I mean come on,  _ God _ , really? His  _ sister _ is the big bad of the week, and apparently the  _ devil _ is the one with all the answers? But don’t mistake him for the King of Hell, because apparently they’re two different people.  _ Please! _ ”

Beside Dean, Thor couldn’t seem to hide his laughter either. “T’was quite an amusing tale,” he chortled, placing an enormous hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I pray that you and your comrades have more entertainment for us, friend. Biblical fables are quite popular on Asgard. I shall--.” 

“I am  _ not _ your friend,” Dean exploded, cutting him off while shoving Thor’s hand off him and standing to his feet once again. The Mark pulsed in tune with his erratic heartbeat as the fury worked its way through his veins. He rolled up his sleeve in shaky movements to reveal the deep, painful, black lines that snaked from the Mark, looking outraged and very much  _ alive _ . 

“The Mark of Cain is what held The Darkness when they defeated her the first time. When Cas and Rowena did the spell to get rid of it, the Mark was damaged instead, freeing Amara.  _ That’s _ what you saw in Kansas. She was free, out in the world for the first time in  _ millenia _ . The Mark connects me to her, so I  _ know _ she’s as real as you and me, and infinitely more powerful. She’s no joke, and she’s no  _ biblical fable _ ,” Dean spat out at the god who looked like he had been slapped across the face. “Amara will destroy humanity when given the chance, and then Heaven, Hell, and every other world out there will be next until she can start over.” 

The anger blinded him as he continued, gritting his teeth and ignoring the sounds of the other people in the room moving from their chairs. “I hate it, I  _ fucking hate  _ Lucifer for everything he’s done to my family. But he’s the one who carried the Mark first. He put Amara away the first time, and he can do it again. He’ll just be wearing my boyfriend’s face when he does it,” Dean laughed humorlessly, a sick, twisted sound that crawled up his throat. “That’s if I live long enough to see it, because the stronger Amara gets, the weaker I become.” His gaze shot back to Stark, who was watching him warily with lips parted in shock. “I don’t give a  _ damn _ if any of you believe us. It doesn’t change the fact that _ this is happening _ , and we’ve done everything we can to stop it.”

“Holy shit, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“God’s real? Heaven? Hell?”

“What is the Mark of Cain?”

“You’re  _ dying _ ?”

A chorus of voices rose up at once, asking questions and demanding answers, but Dean’s attention was suddenly fixed on the phone that had begun ringing. One he pulled it from his pocket, Sam, Hotch, and Reid all stiffened by his side as he read the name on the caller-id. 

_ Cas _ . 

A selfie Dean had taken of the two of them laying on the hood of the Impala, with an orange sunset drifting off behind them, lit up the screen, and Dean’s entire world halted to an abrupt stop. 

His hand shook as he held it up to his ear, trying to drown out the blood rushing between them, and throwing out a hand to the Avengers to shut them up. Thankfully it worked, and the room was quiet again as he answered. “Cas?” 

“ _ Dean _ .” 

Dean’s knees buckled in relief and his white knuckled grip on the coffee table shuddered. The familiar gruff voice was fucking  _ music _ to his hears as he choked on a sob. “ _ Cas _ , what happened?” 

“Dean -” Hotch called out, but was resolutely ignored. There was nothing on this fucking planet that could tear his attention away now. 

“ _ You were right _ ,” the angel sighed heavily, sounding absolutely wrecked.  _ “I couldn’t go through with it. It’s too much of a risk _ .” 

Dean gave a wet chuckle and pressed his palm against one of his eyes, holding back the onslaught of tears that threatened to escape. “I told you, didn’t I? We’ll figure something else out, Cas, just get your ass here.” 

“No, wait -” It was Sam this time, but his protests fell on deaf ears. 

_ “Where are you?”  _

“Hold on,” he told his boyfriend, scrambling for his wallet and pulling out the card agent Coulson had given him. Dean rattled off the address and ignored the sharp intake of breath beside him. “We’re on the third floor, in the conference room at the end of the hall.” 

“Dean,  _ no _ !” 

The line clicked off, and the next second a flutter of wings filled the air as he turned around to see the angel standing a few feet away in the same rumpled suit and trench coat that he wore when he left. 

His vision tunneled, and Dean didn’t pay any attention to the Avengers who cried out in surprise and alarm and drew their weapons, shouting at the newcomer and demanding that he put his hands in the air. Dean shoved against the hands that were suddenly holding him back, practically throwing himself at the angel’s outstretched arms. 

“ _ Dean _ .” His name sounded like a prayer, like salvation, as it always did coming from Cas’ lips.

Sheer joy and overwhelming relief had Dean pressing forward again without a thought, fighting the resistance behind him, and falling into the angel’s embrace. Their lips crashed together in a flurry of desperation and happiness, and Dean actually took a moment to thank  _ God _ for bringing Cas back to him. 

It was only a second before Dean wrenched himself away, not getting too far with long fingers twisted in his hair. Horror dawned on him as a smile - manic, demented, and with too many teeth - stretched wide across the angel’s lips. 

“You’re not Cas.” 

XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks beneath the desk* 
> 
> Thoughts? Feelings? 
> 
> P.S. Thanks to everyone who has read/commented/given kudos. I really appreciate every one of them, and it gives me the motivation to keep writing!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will probably get longer as the story gets going, but the first few will be short and sweet. Let me know what you thought of this one!
> 
> Again, if anyone would like to beta this story for me, I would be forever grateful.


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